


Change Directions

by PinkGerberDaisies



Series: Change Directions AU [1]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: A smidgen of bed sharing, A teaspoon of angst, Alternate Universe, Baby Daddy AU, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Messy FWB to Lovers, Hockey player AU, Olympic Oral, Probably smut eventually - let's be real, Slow Burn, Unexpected Parenthood, a dash of fake dating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2020-05-31 17:16:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 173,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19430503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkGerberDaisies/pseuds/PinkGerberDaisies
Summary: Maple Leafs star centerman Scott Moir wakes up one morning to find that a one night stand has left a baby girl on his doorstep - turning his bachelor life upside down.





	1. my life got flipped-turned upside down

**Author's Note:**

> "It's amazing how the unexpected can take your life and change directions."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So, here we are with another one. I have no idea how often I'll be able to update, but I've been rewatching Baby Daddy the last few weeks and I thought it would be a fun story to try and adapt into an AU. I have no idea where I'm going with it yet, but honestly that's kind of a fun place to start. Hopefully this story is just an enjoyable, lighthearted little piece to brighten up our days. 
> 
> Xoxo!

** my life got flipped-turned upside down **

Tensions are high inside the Air Canada Centre. There’s a palpable sense of anticipation, a longing for victory, pulsing through the crowd of nearly twenty thousand spectators that can be felt all the way down on the surface of the ice. Their cheers and chants stimulating the blood and making each player dressed in royal blue skate a little bit cleaner, hit with a little more precision, and driving them to push, push, push for one more goal.

They’d had a rough start to the game. Down two to zero against the undefeated Chicago Blackhawks after the first period before squeezing in a goal of their own in the second, then nearly losing the game three to one before making a miraculous comeback to tie it three to three at the end of the third. But a tie, while better than a loss, meant overtime, and now everything rests on who can score that final, pivotal goal.

Sweat pools underneath Scott’s helmet and jersey, his Under Armour sticking to his chest like glue, but he ignores the discomfort and squirts another blast of water into his mouth as he waits for the moment he’ll need to jump over the boards and back onto the ice. He and Marner, as well as the other forwards, have been pushing unceasingly for another goal. Trying desperately to create space and get a clean shot in. But they haven’t had any success yet and the red neon clock keeps ticking down. The threat of a penalty shoot-out hanging over them all like the blade of a guillotine.

The Blackhawks have too many men on the ice for a moment and there really should have been a penalty there, but the refs let it go and Scott watches with baited breath as his teammate, William Nylander, continues driving the puck down the ice and shoots, only to have it saved by the blocking arm of Anton Forsberg. The man’s really been a formidable goalie tonight, and Scott’s beginning to worry just a little bit that they won’t be able to get the puck past him again in time.

Back on the ice, Scott tries to tightly turn into the Blackhawks zone and pass the puck to Nylander for another attempt, but it’s ruled offside by the linesman and they’re forced to go back to their side of the line.

Three minutes left on the clock now and the Leafs are getting desperate. Nylander gets the puck again and passes it to Gardiner, who hits it into Forsberg’s chest. Then Marleau and Marner spend some time passing the puck back and forth to each other, trying to find a shot of their own with no success.

The Leafs have made over forty shots in the game so far and they only have three goals to show for it. It can’t end like this. Not after the excellent start to the season they’ve had, winning seven of their last eight games. And losing at home sucks so much more than losing on the road.

Scott thinks they almost have it when Dan Reeves dives for the puck with a one-handed swat, but he can’t make contact and crashes into the boards instead, giving the Blackhawks star Patrick Kane a chance to score, which thankfully the Leafs are able to defend against. 

There’s just over a minute left on the clock before the dreaded shoot-out. The Leafs get the puck back and try again to score, but the Blackhawks intercept it and head down the ice towards the Leaf’s goal, and it’s in that moment that Scott finds his chance.

Blackhawks player Jonathan Toews tries to pass the puck to Kane to line up another shot, but it bounces off his skate by accident and Scott’s there to intercept it.

There’s only one opponent over the line, and Scott moves around him down the right wing side of the rink with ease. This is where he feels most at home. Just him, the puck, and the ice. Nobody else matters. Not the defenders, not the goalie, not the audience screaming or taunting or making demands.

It’s just him and the net and the calculations he needs to make in a split second to get there.

It’s now or never.

Gardiner is with him, keeping the second defender who’s caught up to them busy, and just as the Blackhawks’ player in front of him goes down on one knee and sticks his stick out to try and block the shot, Scott smacks the puck towards the net and watches with an already blossoming grin as it snaps in just over the goalie’s left shoulder and crashes into the top of the net just under the crossbar.

The arena erupts in a cacophony of cheers like victory bells clanging inside his ears as Scott slides across the ice on one knee, pumping his fist, before all of his teammates flood the ice and circle around him - shouting various triumphant expletives at his head.

He can practically hear the commentators on the TV shouting, “Scott Moir wins the game!” And no matter how many times in the last nine years of his, frankly, illustrious career he’s heard those very words, it still makes his heart soar. 

Nothing could ever be better than this.

****

King Taps is still packed with people celebrating tonight’s win by the time they get there, but Chiddy – ever reliable and prepared – had reserved one of their biggest booths beforehand and so they manage to get inside quickly without having to wait too long. One of the benefits of being Ontario’s favorite sports anchor is that Chiddy’s name can get them in pretty much anywhere, guaranteed.

(Not that Scott’s or any of his other teammates couldn’t, but he kind of loathes using his fame like that.)

“Yo! Moir!” One of the patrons seated at the bar shouts at them as they walk in, dragging out Scott’s last name in one long _Moy-ERRRR_ while pumping his fist. Clearly he’s already had quite a few beers in addition to the pint he’s currently spilling all over the floor, “Great game tonight, man! First round’s on me!”

Not one to ever disappoint a fan, Scott gamely walks over to him and gives him a high-five, “Thanks, man. That’s really nice of you. The other guys worked just as hard as I did and I know they appreciate it.”

Scott gestures over to the few of his teammates that accompanied him out tonight who are currently shuffling into the booth, trying to fit all their large frames around the table, and a few of them wave back at him. 

“Sure, sure,” The man dismisses, not even bothering to really acknowledge the other guys, “But you were the star. Scoring in overtime like that? Amazing. Can I get a selfie?”

It rankles him a little bit, given that his teammate Nikita Zaitsev, who scored the first goal for the Leafs tonight, is sitting right there, but Scott knows from experience that there are some people who recognize teamwork and others who just don’t.

Cringing inside, Scott nods and poses for the camera, allowing the stranger to sling his arm around his shoulders like they’re best friends. He grew used to this a long time ago – people stopping him at random times all over the city, not concerned at all by what he’s doing or whether or not they’re being inconsiderate – but it still makes him sigh internally. He hates selfies.

Sometimes there are perks to being a star athlete, and sometimes there are downsides.

“Would you mind if I got a selfie, too?” A beautiful dark-skinned woman with an intriguing birthmark on her left cheek smiles at him, interrupting the in-depth recap of the game the fan at his side was just launching into. There’s a gleam in her eyes that promises something more than just a selfie, if he wants it, and Scott smirks.

That is a definite perk.

“Not at all. What’s your name?”

“Neena.” She holds out her left hand with the camera and tucks herself into his side, her right hand slipping into his back pocket, and Scott grips her waist a little tighter as she presses the button and snaps a photo. 

“That’s a beautiful name.” He doesn’t miss the way her hand lingers a little as she withdraws it from his pants, and he grins and steps in closer to her before obviously checking her out – dragging his eyes from head to toe and back up again.

There are many excellent ways to celebrate a victory, but this one is his favorite.

“Thank you,” She props her elbows up on the edge of the bar behind her and leans back, the move thrusting her breasts and hips out on prominent display, “That was a beautiful game.”

“You watched it?”

She laughs and shrugs her shoulder, dragging his attention to the name tag pinned to the lapel of her tiny jean jacket-vest-thing thrown over her stretched, low-cut black t-shirt, “I’m a bartender here. It’s practically mandatory.”

“Oh,” Scott laughs, “So it wasn’t by choice.”

“Hockey isn’t my favorite sport, but,” She eyes him up and down like he did her, licking her bottom lip enticingly, “It has some things going for it.”

Good. He kind of prefers it when girls aren’t totally fawning over him just because of the logo on his jersey and the paycheck that accompanies it. The fame might be their primary motivation, sure, but he likes knowing they find him attractive for himself, too. Not only because of how many followers he has on his barely-active Instagram account.

“So are you working tonight?”

“My shift ends at eleven.” It’s a blatant invitation, and Scott nods.

"Good to know.”

After-party plans settled, Scott makes his way over to the booth and sits down with his friends, immediately digging into the giant nacho plate that Chiddy must have ordered for the table and taking a sip of the beer they'd saved for him.

“Scott, so good of you to finally join us. Can I get a selfie with you?” Chiddy elbows him in the side and everyone laughs good-naturedly at him, making Scott roll his eyes around the mouthful of cheese and jalapenos he’s currently inhaling.

“Whatever, Chiddy. Weren’t you reprimanded just two nights ago by your boss for screaming so loudly that you blew out a mic on air when I scored against the Rangers?” Scott shoots back, and then it’s Chiddy’s turn to roll his eyes.

“I was just relieved because you’re always so grumpy and hard to live with when you lose. Having a hockey player for a roommate isn’t easy, you know. You can be a real pain in the ass.”

“Yeah, sharing my penthouse apartment must be really painful for you.” Scott deadpans, and Chiddy swats his shoulder. 

The truth is they share the apartment equally between them and their third roommate, Jeffrey Buttle, the three of them having decided to move in together a few years ago and share the burden of rent and chores (not that any of them are really hurting for money - they mostly just enjoy each others' company), but technically the lease is under his name so Scott still likes to tease Chiddy about it from time to time. 

“Did Marleau decide if he was joining us tonight?” Matt Martin asks from across the table while neatly slicing up his steak, and Scott’s mouth starts watering, prompting him to dig out one of the menus and decide what he’s going to order. He’s starving after burning so many calories tonight, and nachos simply aren’t going to cut it.

Especially not if he plans on burning even more in a couple of hours. 

“Nah, his wife called and said their son has a cold so he rushed home to help out and give him a bath. He doesn’t like missing stuff like that.” Marner attacks his own steak with all the voracity of an ancient, scaly carnivore, and Scott promptly orders the Blackened Creole Chicken instead. “Did you get that chick’s Snapchat?”

“Did I get her what?” Scott laughs, sharing a look of confusion with Chiddy who seems as equally baffled by the question as he is. Scott’s only just gotten used to using Twitter instead of Facebook, now there’s something else he’s supposed to learn as well?

Marner and Nylander roll their eyes at each other, and Scott can practically see them calling him and Chiddy old in their heads. “Her Snapchat. You know, the app? How else are you supposed to hook up with her later?”

“I sort of figured I would walk over there when her shift ended. Maybe get her phone number.” Is there something wrong with that plan that he’s unaware of? It’s always worked for him before, but technology seems to change faster than he can keep up with it these days, and apparently that means accepted methods of dating, too. 

“Her phone number?” Nylander laughs, “That’s so old school. You can chat _and_ share pics on Snapchat. It’s way easier.”

“Share pics?”

Nylander nods and grins rather lewdly before taking a drink of his beer, “Dirty pics.”

Marner huffs and shakes his head while finishing off his broccolini, and Scott scrunches up his nose and shakes his head as well, “Why would I do that? And risk them getting spread all over social media? No thank you.” 

“That sounds like a terrible idea. I work in the media, I know how quickly things can spread,” Chiddy agrees, and Scott chuckles quietly to himself. He’s grateful for his friend’s support, but not exactly surprised by it. It’s hard to imagine Chiddy in his pullover maroon sweater and collared shirts sending dick pics to some random girl.

Scott’s phone vibrates in his pocket, pulling him out of the conversation, and he takes it out and glances at the screen – pleased to find a message waiting for him from his other best friend, Tessa.

**The Virtch:** Congrats on your big win tonight! Sorry I couldn’t be there. This LSAT study group is killing me. I owe you a celebratory drink!

**Scott:** No worries. You can buy me a drink some other time. Your test is important! Have you remembered to eat today?

**The Virtch:** …

**The Virtch** : Does copious amounts of coffee and a donut count?

Scott laughs at his phone and shakes his head affectionately, perfectly imagining the overly-innocent big green eyes and pouty lip she’d be giving him right now if she were here. Of course, if she were here he’d immediately order her a giant plate of whatever she wants – probably the salmon and heaps of French fries – to remedy the situation, but as she is currently holed up across town somewhere a gentle reprimand over the phone will have to do.

**Scott:** GO EAT. Send me a pic so I know you are.

_Huh_ , he chuckles to himself as he hits send, _maybe downloading that Snap app thing would be useful_.

It takes a few minutes, but eventually his phone vibrates with another incoming message. This time it’s a picture of Tessa with her dark hair piled on top of her head in a wild bun wearing her old navy Queen’s University hoodie and a spoon full of thick, creamy mac n’ cheese paused halfway to her mouth.

**The Virtch** : Satisfied?

**Scott:** Very. Proud of you, kiddo.

**Scott:** We still on for dinner on Thursday? Or will you be too busy cramming for your test?

**The Virtch:** Of course! I can spare an hour or two for you. ;)

Weekly dinner has been a standing tradition between the two of them ever since they both moved to Toronto – him for hockey, her to work as a paralegal at the prestigious law offices of Gordon Schmidt Van Dyke - and Scott always looks forward to it. They’ve been best friends for twenty years, ever since his aunt paired them up as ice dance partners in a semi-successful venture that ultimately ended when he realized he really wanted to focus on hockey and Tessa wanted to buckle down on her academics, and the fact that they’ve managed to maintain that friendship through highs and lows, good times and bad, means everything to him.

She’s a special girl, that Tessa Virtue. One of the few constants in his often hectic life, and he’s grateful every day to have her as a best friend.

Grinning, Scott slips his phone back into his pocket and looks up to find Nikita smiling hopefully at him.

“Was that Tessa? Is she joining us tonight? Should I save her a seat?”

Scott forces himself not to roll his eyes. His teammate’s crush on Tessa would be cute, if it weren’t so doomed. Tessa swore off dating hockey players after her first boyfriend broke her heart outside the concession stand at Budweiser Gardens, but no matter how many times Scott tries to tell Nikita to give up, he can’t seem to let the dream go.

“She can’t tonight. Her LSAT is coming up and she’s busy prepping for it.”

Nikita sighs, a dreamy little smile making the corner of his lips twitch, “She’s so smart.”

Scott can’t say he disagrees.

“When is she taking that?” Matt cuts in, “I need to remember to send her flowers or something. She was so great about helping Sydney when she was applying for grad school.”

“At the end of this month. How’d that go by the way? Did she get in?”

Tessa had spent weeks taking time out of her busy schedule over the summer while the guys were at training to help Matt’s girlfriend, Sydney, apply for various grad programs and providing the encouragement and moral support that she needed, but Scott hasn’t heard yet whether or not it all paid off.

“Great!” Matt grins proudly, “She’s starting in January at McGill.”

“Montreal? That’s a pretty significant commute from Toronto,” Chiddy points out with a frown, “Are you thinking of leaving the Leafs? Have the Habs made an offer?”

“Looking for a scoop, Chan?” Marner snorts and Chiddy’s ears turn pink. Scott knows he doesn’t do it intentionally, but sometimes making the switch from Sports Reporter Patrick to Friend Patrick is a struggle for him.

“No. Sorry. It’s none of my business.”

“It’s okay,” Matt laughs, “I’m not leaving the Leafs. Montreal is pretty far, but we’re both committed to making the long distance thing work.”

“Who gets custody of Jax?” Nylander asks, and Matt shakes his head at him and scoffs like it’s a dumb question.

“The dog stays with me, obviously.”

They all chuckle and Nikita raises his arm to order another round of drinks, when they’re interrupted by a couple of girls walking up to their booth – giggling and shoving each other until one of them pushes the other one forward.

“Sorry, but are you Mitch Marner?” The blonde one asks, giggling and nudging her friend.

“Yeah,” Marner gives them a friendly smile, puffing out his chest a little as he leans back against the maroon leather and looks at them both approvingly.

“ _Magic_ Marner?” The brunette adds, and Marner’s smile turns cocky.

“Depends what kind of magic you’re talking about.”

“They also call him ‘The Little Man,’” Scott leans in to whisper to Chiddy, “Should we mention that?”

Chiddy snorts and shoves his shoulder, motioning for him to shut up, but laughing all the same. Watching Mitch learn to handle fame and success at twenty years old reminds Scott a lot of his own early days in the NHL, and he takes it as his personal duty to keep Marner’s head from swelling too big by teasing him like any good teammate would.

“He’s pretty good at Xbox,” Scott says instead of insinuating anything about his size, “I think he and Will here spend more time with their video games than they do on the ice.” 

Marner throws a crumpled up napkin at his head and Scott laughs as he ducks out of the way, dodging the incoming projectile with ease. 

“Can we buy you ladies a drink?” He gestures between Nylander and himself and the girls nod.

Marner shoves him and Chiddy out of the way, pausing to pretend-sucker punch Scott in the stomach, before heading over to the bar with Nylander and the girls, and Scott watches them go with a laugh before sliding back into the booth.

“I remember when I was that age,” Scott sighs dramatically and cracks his back as if he’s already old and decrepit, making Chiddy, Nikita, and Matt all laugh.

“Whatever, Scott,” Matt says, “You’re worse than he is. Especially during the off-season.”

“Speaking of,” Scott catches the eye of Neena as she unties the apron around her waist and removes her nametag and throws her a little wave, “Looks like it’s time for me to head out, fellas. Chiddy, don’t wait up!”

“Yeah, yeah. Get out of here.” Chiddy playfully shoves him out of the booth and Scott laughs before pulling his wallet out of his pocket and throwing a wad of bills down on the table to cover his share and heading over towards his date for the evening.

"Hey,” He greets her with a flick of his chin, “All finished?”

“Yep.”

“Do you want to grab a drink, or –“

She shrugs on a leather jacket and arches her eyebrow at him like he’s being an idiot, “Or we could just head straight to my place.”

“Perfect.”

**** 

Scott rolls into his apartment, bleary-eyed and pleasantly exhausted, at about three a.m., strips off his clothes, and takes the fastest shower of his life. Neena was great – way more flexible than he was expecting and a little more intense than he’d prefer for a first time – but still a lot of fun. He’d given her his number, which is more than can be said for most of his one-night stands, and he actually kind of hopes she’ll use it.

He shuts the water off and makes his way back into his bedroom to dig out a fresh pair of boxers, not bothering to close the curtains over the floor-to-ceiling glass wall overlooking Lake Ontario while he gets dressed. It’s not like anybody can see him this high up anyway, and the view over the water is soothing. It helps keep him from getting too overwhelmed by the city on days when the constant traffic and noise gets to be too much.

You can take the boy out of the small town, but you can’t take the small town out of the boy.

There’s a text from Tessa waiting for him on his phone, a link to some video that she swears is hilarious sent just before two a.m. that means she’s staying up late studying and needed a distraction, and he’s tempted to reply to it before a jaw-cracking yawn overtakes him.

Swearing to respond to her in the morning, he plugs his phone in and falls into bed – sleep claiming him in mere seconds.

Tuesday morning finds him a few hours later with his head buried under a mountain of pillows to ward off the sun, drool crusted to his cheek, and an ache in his lower back reminding him that for all his teasing Marner the night before, he really isn’t as young as he once was.

Stumbling out of bed, Scott runs his hands through the bird nest on top of his head as he walks into the kitchen and prepares a generous helping of Cheerios, not bothering to slice up a banana on top like he normally would before shoving a large spoonful inside his mouth.

“Late night?” Jeff enters the kitchen and heads straight for the coffee machine, rubbing the bridge of his nose underneath his glasses as he goes. There are dark circles under his eyes, and the fact that he’s still wearing his pajamas and bathrobe means he didn’t get much sleep either.

The three of them don’t keep the most traditional hours, what with Scott’s hockey and Patrick’s broadcasting and Jeff off doing choreography for figure skaters, but they aren’t normally so out of whack on a weekday. It doesn't bode well. 

“Yeah,” Scott hums around his cereal, “You?”

Jeff sinks down beside him on one of the barstools and practically buries his nose in his coffee, “I was up late talking to Justin. He wants to try dating again.”

“Isn’t he the one who called it off last time? Something about needing more time to discover himself?”

"Yeah,” Jeff scoffs and reaches over Scott for one of the unused bananas, making quick work of the peel and biting off half of it at once, “It was bullshit.”

Scott nods sympathetically. He likes Justin, he really does, but the guy has been nothing but a never-ending rollercoaster for Jeff ever since they met at an animal shelter last year. The fact that he wants to try dating again after the pain he’d put Jeff through when they broke up is almost laughable.

“So tell him no. You live in Toronto, there have to be plenty of guys to date. What about one of the other players in your gay hockey league?”

Jeff throws him a look and it’s the second time in the last twelve hours someone’s made Scott feel like an idiot with a single glance. “I can’t date a teammate, Scott. You know that. It's a bad idea.”

“Uh…” Scott chuckles, “I can’t say that that’s a problem for me, no, but I get your point.”

The front door slams shut and Chiddy comes jogging into the kitchen. His shirt is plastered to his chest with sweat and he’s got that annoying glow that only comes from a good workout, accompanied by a big grin that Scott wants to wipe off his face. How dare he be so chipper this early?

“Hey guys! You’re finally up!”

Jeff scowls while Chiddy pulls out the blender and starts whipping up his favorite protein/veggie/green concoction and Scott goes back to eating his cereal and contemplating going back to bed. He doesn’t have to be at practice until three, and while normally he’d head to the gym, his coach probably won’t notice if he skips a day in favor of catching a few more hours of rest.

“I went for a run down along the water. It is _gorgeous_ out there. Probably one of the last nice days we’ll get before autumn sets in.”

“Chiddy. No.” Jeff shakes his head before downing the rest of his coffee, and Scott snorts – almost choking on some milk.

“Who pissed in your coffee this morning?”

“Justin called,” Scott says by way of explanation, and Chiddy’s whole demeanor immediately changes from one of annoyance to understanding.

“What did he want?”

“To get back together.” Scott answers for Jeff, who’s currently busy glaring at the ring of dried liquid on the marble countertop like he can clean it up with a single look. Scott’s pretty sure it’s from a glass of juice he’d left there a few days ago by accident, but he isn’t about to mention that to Jeff in his current state.

Chiddy finishes blending the gross mess he calls a drink and turns around, leaning on the counter before asking, “What did you tell him?”

“I don’t know,” Jeff groans, folding his arms on the countertop and dropping his forehead down on top of them, “I said I had to think about it.”

“You can’t seriously be considering saying _yes_.” After all the pints of ice cream he’d had to buy and all the sappy, sad historical dramas Jeff had made him and Tessa watch, Scott can’t believe he’d ever consider getting back with his ex. It just doesn’t seem worth it when there’s a city of three million people waiting just outside their building. Surely one of them would be a better partner. “Tell him no and go date somebody new.”

“But I don’t want to date somebody new. I know he can drive me crazy and he makes too many _Harry Potter_ references and he likes football an absurd amount for a gay man, but I’m still in love with him.”

“Look, Jeff, Scott and I will support you whatever you decide. If he makes you happy and you think there’s a chance this time it could work out, then I think you should go for it.” Chiddy smiles encouragingly, pointedly ignoring Scott mouthing _what are you doing!?_ at him over Jeff’s shoulder.

It’s not that Scott doesn’t want Jeff to be happy, it’s that he _does_. What’s the harm in dating around for a while before finding the One and settling down? Scott used to be one of those guys who was always searching for the right girl. Always dreaming of finding the love of his life and starting a family. A serial monogamist, his friends and family had called him. But then his last girlfriend had run off with a teammate when the guy transferred to the Detroit Red Wings and, well, that had been the end of that. His current lifestyle has been working out great for him so far and he hasn’t had to eat any ice cream or watch sad movies in a long, long time.

Footloose and fancy free. What could be better?

"What do you think, Scott?” Jeff looks up at him like a sad puppy, interrupting his thoughts, and Scott opens his mouth to disagree with Chiddy when he catches the other man mouthing, _be supportive_ at him rather aggressively.

“I guess… I guess one more try couldn’t hurt.” Jeff perks up immediately, a smile gracing his features, and Scott puts up his hand quickly in warning, “But he has to know it has to be different this time. Tell him your roommate will get his entire team of very large, very scary hockey players to beat him up if he breaks your heart again.”

“Psh,” Chiddy scoffs, “I thought you said Marner was a little man. He couldn’t scare anybody.”

“You haven’t seen the kid hopped up on Red Bull and playing one of his Xbox games. Trust me, he could take down a guy twice his size.”

The doorbell rings and Chiddy heads off to answer it while Scott cleans up his dishes, grabbing Jeff’s mug to do alongside his bowl and the blender. Maybe he will go to the gym after all. He feels much more awake now, and a five mile run would actually feel pretty good.

The second he thinks it he can hear Tessa groaning inside his head from the last time they’d worked out together, moaning about how much she hates running and begging for him to take a barre class with her instead. The thought makes him huff out a quiet laugh under his breath.

“Uh… Guys!” Chiddy calls out from the foyer, “I think you need to come see this.”

“Oh no,” Jeff climbs off his barstool and fixes the cord of his robe around his waist a little tighter, “Did one of your dates leave us something again? I swear, Scott, if it’s another singing telegram declaring how much she loves you I’m gonna –“

Scott throws the sponge at him and Jeff jumps out of the way, barely missing getting smacked with it right in the center of his nose.

“I’m just saying. You’ve gotta stop telling people where you live.” He walks out of the room, muttering vague threats under his breath, and Scott laughs as he finishes up the rest of the dishes in the sink and loads them into the dishwasher. That singing telegram really had been awful, the girl didn’t know how to take no for an answer, so he can’t really blame Jeff for still being peeved about it.

“Scott! This is… uh… definitely for you!” Jeff yells and Scott sighs heavily before wiping off his hands and heading towards the entryway.

“Guys, just tell them we don’t want whatever it –“ He comes to a dead stop a few feet from the door.

There on their doormat is a car seat.

A baby car seat.

A baby car seat with a BABY inside.

A sleeping baby dressed in pink and white and clutching a little stuffed bear like her life depends on it, a pacifier dangling precariously from her open mouth.

“What the hell is that?” Scott’s voice comes out all scratchy and weird, a sort of high-pitched gasping sound that makes it seem like he just choked up a bunch of water. It's appropriate, given the way he suddenly feels like he's drowning. 

“An eel,” Jeff deadpans, before throwing his arms out to the side, “It’s a baby what do you think!?”

“I mean, what’s it doing here?”

“She came with these,” Chiddy hands over a thick manila envelope along with what appears to be a fully-loaded diaper bag and a garbage bag full of clothes, and Scott wordlessly accepts them. It feels like all of his extremities are slowly going numb.

 _This can’t be happening_.

“Why are you giving them to me? She could belong to one of you.”

Chiddy and Jeff look at each other, then down at the blonde-haired baby, then back at Scott.

“Oh, my bad. Let me just call Justin real quick and see if we managed to defy the laws of nature in the last year.” Jeff rolls his eyes and shakes his head as he picks up the car seat and moves it inside before closing the door. A move Scott’s grateful for somewhere in the back of his head where he still has the capability of thought processing. The last thing he needs is a nosy neighbor catching wind of this, whatever _this_ is, and leaking it to the press.

“I’m going to make a fairly safe bet and guess that she isn’t mine, either,” Chiddy adds, again gesturing to the baby’s features, “I mean, it’s not entirely impossible, but I haven’t ever dated a blonde. They aren’t usually my type.”

“But there’s no way. I always use protection.” Scott shakes his head from side to side and lets the diaper bag and bag of clothes fall to the floor.

He likes to think he’s a smart guy. Just because he enjoys sex doesn’t mean he isn’t conscious of the risks. He gets regularly tested and there’s never been a time when he didn’t use a condom. The chance of accidentally getting someone pregnant should have been less than one percent. One percent of one percent.

“That’s not a one hundred percent guarantee.” Chiddy points out unhelpfully, and a weird noise rumbles in the back of Scott’s throat that sounds vaguely like a whimper.

“You guys are missing the most important thing here – who’s the mom and why did she ditch her kid on your doorstep? Let’s see if she said anything.” Jeff snatches the envelope out of Scott’s still-frozen hands and flips the tabs open, pulling out the first paper he finds. “A ha! It’s a letter. Scott -”

Scott finally regains enough of his faculties to grab the paper and read it for himself, not wanting to news to come out of Jeff’s faintly mocking mouth.

_Scott,_

_Sorry to just leave the baby and run, but I have somewhere I need to be and not a lot of time to explain and I knew if I delivered her in person you’d make a big deal out of it._

_The quick summary is this: yes, she’s yours, no I’m not looking for child support, no, you don’t have to keep her, and yes, I’m giving her up for adoption._

_I tried the whole mom thing for a couple of months, but it just wasn’t for me. The adoption agency needs you to relinquish your rights and then they’ll place her with a new family. I think they already have one lined up. The papers are inside the envelope, along with her birth records and stuff. I’ve already signed them so just slap your signature on there and give them a call and we’re good to go._

_Thanks!_

_Whitney Pickett_

“Whitney Pickett?” Chiddy repeats, reading over Scott’s shoulder, “Who’s that?”

It takes Scott a second, trying to do the mental math and think of who he would have slept a whole year ago, but then a blonde-haired woman’s face emerges and he remembers.

“October 2nd, 2016,” Scott answers slowly, still stunned and full of disbelief, “It was after we beat Montreal in overtime. We’d had a rough start to the pre-season and we all went to that club afterwards, remember? I think you came with us and hooked up with that elementary school teacher.”

“Vanessa,” Chiddy shudders, “I remember.”

“It says here the baby’s name is Hannah and she was born on June 24th, so she’s just over three months old. That fits with your, um… memory of the conception,” Jeff holds up the birth certificate, “And here’s a bunch of paperwork for the Adoption Council of Ontario. Looks like this Whitney person didn’t intend for you to keep her.”

Chiddy looks at Scott for a few seconds, until it becomes clear that he’s incapable of answering, and then he replies for him, “No. Her letter said she left the baby so Scott could sign away his rights and call the agency. I guess she’s already got everything set up.”

“Scott?” Jeff steps carefully around the still-sleeping infant, “Are you okay?”

“More importantly,” Chiddy adds, “What are you going to do?”

Scott swallows around the portion of the Sahara desert that seems to have taken up residence in his mouth and tears his eyes away from the sentence _yes, she’s yours_ , to look down at the baby again.

“I don’t know.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Matter of note: This story starts on October 9, 2017, after the Maple Leafs play the Chicago Blackhawks. I imagine Scott's position on the team as replacing Auston Matthews (sorry, buddy).


	2. so glad you are a child of mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott struggles to make the hardest decision of his life.

** so glad you are a child of mine **

****

“You’re not doing it right,” Chiddy points out in an annoying sing-song voice, saying the same words he’s said at least three times in the last five minutes while Scott struggles to figure out how to change the baby’s diaper, and it makes Scott want to punch him. Or throw the soiled diaper at his head, whichever is easier. 

It shouldn’t be this difficult! Scott’s made impossible goals look easy out on the ice, so changing a diaper should be a piece of cake. The basic mechanics of it seem pretty straightforward, and he's seen his brothers and their wives do it a million times, but the tiny thing won’t stop wriggling and squirming and trying to keep her legs tucked in close to her stomach. Every time he thinks he’s close to getting one of the sticky tabs closed around her, she moves again and it pulls loose. If he didn’t know better, he’d say she was doing it on purpose.

“Just duct tape it,” Jeff suggests, “I think we have a roll in the closet you can use.”

“You can’t duct tape a baby, Jeffrey,” Chiddy states authoritatively as he folds his arms over his chest and rolls his eyes, and Jeff scowls at him.

“’ _You can’t duct tape a baby, Jeffrey_ ,’” He mocks, “I don’t hear you suggesting anything.”

Chiddy hums and looks around the room while Scott continues trying to coax the baby’s legs away from her torso. It’s frankly a little alarming how strong she is for only being a few months old, and he doesn’t want to accidentally hurt her by tugging too hard. He tries tickling her tummy and running his fingers up her ribs, almost crowing in success when one of her legs shoots out straight in response, but it curls back in faster than he can get the tab closed.

“Didn’t they used to use safety pins back in the day?” Chiddy finally says after completing his thorough evaluation of the living room and kitchen – having dismissed the paperclips he’d found as not a viable option, “We probably have some of those lying around.”

“I’m not sticking pins in the baby,” Scott snorts derisively before managing to stretch one tab over her hip and attach it to the front somewhat successfully, if a little lopsided, and he pumps his fist in the air in triumph, “A-ha!”

“Well, I don’t think that was _exactly_ how the pins worked,” Chiddy muses, and Jeff swats him on the back of the head, earning a glare and a few mumbled threats about making up embarrassing stories about him on the air. 

“Aren’t you an uncle?" Chiddy asks once he's done threatening their roommate, "Shouldn’t you know all this stuff already?”

“Hey, I hand the kids back to their parents when they start to smell, okay?” Scott holds up the hand not currently keeping the diaper shut in defense, “I’m the fun uncle. The guy who wrestles and plays tag and hide and go seek and sneaks them cookies when their parents aren’t looking. Changing a diaper isn’t exactly something I thought I needed to learn yet.” 

“Scott? Are you here?” The sound of the front door shutting accompanies Tessa’s shouted greeting, alerting the three men to her presence seconds before she walks around the corner and into the living room. “I came as fast as I could, although it was a little hard to come up with an excuse for my boss when all your text said was, ‘Baby! Help! Baby!’ Is that code for something? Because if it was a joke and I took work off for nothing I’m going to -”

Scott looks up from the second tab that he’d finally managed to close to find her staring back at him with her mouth hanging open. Or rather, staring down at the baby lying in the middle of the ottoman surrounded by three grown men looking completely out of their element. 

“That’s a baby,” She states rather obviously, and somewhere by the left side of Scott’s head Jeff snorts.

“Yeah,” Scott chokes. Somehow having Tessa here completely eliminates any progress he’d made in the last half-hour at somewhat managing to move past his shock and come to terms with his current predicament. In the face of the baby’s cries and the smell emanating from her diaper, and the lack of any effort to be helpful by his friends, he’d had to stop standing around like an idiot and get moving, but now he finds himself frozen in place again.

“Why?”

It’s an unexpected question and it makes him huff out a brief laugh in surprise, allowing some of the tension in his shoulders to ease slightly.

“Don’t you mean, ‘how’?” Jeff chimes in, wiggling his eyebrows and grinning way too mischievously to be up to anything but trouble, “See, Tessa, what happened was Scott put his dick –“

“Shut up, Jeff,” Scott and Tessa say in unison like they have many times before, and Scott’s grateful that it works - Jeff's mouth slamming shut, even though it's clear he wants to continue. The last thing Scott needs right now is an awkward and completely unnecessary sex-ed lesson. Tessa cracks a smile at him and rolls her eyes at their friend's teasing before coming closer to lean over his shoulder and get a better look at the baby.

Not “the baby” - _Hannah_. He’s going to have to get used to using her name, even if she’s only here for a few hours. Planned or not, _wanted_ or not, she’s still a person.

“So,” Tessa hesitates before kneeling down beside him and reaching out to tentatively stroke the little girl’s hand, her face lighting up with delighted surprise when Hannah clasps her fingers around one of Tessa’s and holds on tight, “She’s yours?”

She looks over at him with blatant curiosity and Scott swallows around the lump lodged in his throat, “That’s what the paperwork says.”

“Wow,” Tessa breathes, looking back at Hannah and wiggling her finger back and forth, making the little girl smile, “Yeah, I can see it. She’s got your eyes.”

Has she? Scott hadn’t noticed before, but now that he leans in a little closer… she does have his eyes. Light brown with an almost greenish tint in the sunlight. The same eyes shared by his two brothers and his mom.

Moir eyes.

The similarity hits him like a sledgehammer to the chest – filling him up with an unidentifiable emotion that he doesn’t know how to place or handle and making his lungs constrict painfully. There’s a baby in the world now with his eyes, half his DNA, and he wonders briefly what else she might have inherited from him. His mom always said he was a happy, curious, precocious child. Will Hannah be the same? 

He shuts down that line of thinking immediately. 

“I can’t believe you have a baby,” Tessa continues, oblivious to Scott’s mild panic attack beside her and still entertaining Hannah by wiggling her finger back and forth and around in wide circles, “I mean, I know sometimes you like to talk about wanting kids someday, but I always figured you meant in like… three or four years. After you got married and settled down. I can’t quite wrap my head around it happening now.”

“Join the club,” Scott half chokes, half snorts, “It wasn’t exactly planned. I didn’t know she existed until an hour ago.”

“So what happened? The mom just dropped her off?”

“Literally,” Jeff holds up the envelope with all of the papers that the mom – _Whitney -_ had left behind, “Just left the kid on our doormat with some legal documents and a note.”

Tessa’s nose scrunches up in disgust as her eyebrows push together, her forehead wrinkling as she looks at the papers with obvious disapproval, “That’s… kind of terrible. Who just leaves a baby like that? What if none of you were home?”

Chiddy flops down on the edge of the couch and leans in to take Hannah’s other hand, pulling a funny face at her to get her attention, “I think the mom must have seen me getting back from my run. It would make sense since the doorbell rang only a few minutes after I walked in. She could have been waiting and then ran off as soon as she knew someone was here.”

"It still seems like an awful big risk to take. How can you be sure any of the papers are legitimate? I mean, she _looks_ like your baby, but this is all very suspicious.”

"That’s kind of why I need you, T.” Scott grabs her free hand with his and laces their fingers together, looping his index finger around her pinky like they used to do when they were kids and holding on tight. The familiar contact of her soft skin and small hand in his helps the knot inside his chest loosen just enough that he can breathe normally again. “I need your legal expertise.”

Tessa lets go of Hannah’s hand to sit back on her calves and look at him, rolling her eyes in affectionate exasperation, “As I’ve reminded you a hundred times, I’m not a lawyer yet, I’m a paralegal.”

“Close enough,” Scott shrugs and leans back too, tilting his body to face hers so that he can plead directly into her face. Years of experience have taught him that Tessa can’t resist a good Moir pout, especially if he throws in some puppy dog eyes and a smidgen of begging, and he can already see her resistance begging to crack.

“Going into _corporate_ law. I don’t know anything about parental rights. This is probably something we should have Jordan handle.” She moves to reach for her cell phone, but Scott sticks his free hand out and stops her. He loves Jordan, she’s like the older sister he never had, but having Tessa’s super smart, super logical, super competent, lawyer sister step into this mess before he’s figured any of it out yet sounds like a terrible idea. Jordan would want to get the Law (with a capital L) involved and probably tell his parents and that’s way more intense of a reaction than he’s looking for. 

Lifting Tessa’s other hand to his chest, he fixes her with his most sorrowful gaze, “Please? How different could it be?”

“Very.” Tessa tries to tug her hands free, but he holds on tighter.

“Look, I just need to know if the birth certificate and adoption papers she left behind are legit. Surely that’s something you can verify.”

“Adoption?” That seems to bring her up short, and Tessa stops trying to break free of his hands so that she can look over at where Hannah’s happily sucking on her fist, oblivious to the conversation going on around her, “You’re giving her up?”

“Of course he is,” Jeff answers matter-of-factly just as Scott mumbles, “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Jeff, Chiddy, and Tessa reply all together, and Scott suddenly feels like the defendant in a court room kneeling on the floor surrounded by a jury of his peers.

Heat starts to spread underneath his collar and up his neck to his cheeks and he sucks in a deep breath before opening his mouth to answer, “It’s complicated! I haven’t exactly had time to think about it.”

“What’s complicated about it? You’re not exactly in a position to take care of a child right now.” Jeff readjusts his robe before sitting down beside Chiddy. His tone, accompanied by the little laugh he releases, tells Scott everything he needs to know about his friend’s opinion.

Still, he has to ask, “Why not? I can afford it.”

It’s not that he doesn’t think adoption is probably the right answer, even with all of the millions sitting in his bank account that could be used towards diapers and food and supplies and an education fund and whatever sports she wants to try (he hopes one of them is hockey or figure skating), it’s just… he could use a little more logic and convincing, that’s all. He wants to be one hundred percent sure that adoption is the right answer before he commits to it. There’s nothing wrong with certainty.

Chiddy leans forward and scoops Hannah off the ottoman, settling her in his lap and making sure she’s comfortable before answering Scott’s question, “You live a… let’s say unpredictable life, Scott. You're on the road half of the year and when you are in Toronto you’re either at the gym or training with the team or at a bar. Not to mention all of the women – well, you get my point.”

“You’re a bachelor, Scott,” Jeff finishes for him, summing up everything Chiddy said in one word, “Living the bachelor lifestyle. A baby doesn’t fit into that. She needs a _dad_.”

Scott goes silent. He wants to argue with them, although he’s not quite sure why, but nothing they said is strictly false. Hadn’t he thought only this morning that he was totally happy living a footloose and fancy free life? Tried to convince Jeff that it was the best option? And now, what - suddenly he's switching to the opposite side? 

He glances over at Tessa who seems to be deep in thought, gnawing on her bottom lip as her hand clenches and unclenches around his where they’re still linked. Her green eyes are unfocused as she stares at a spot in the rug, and he gently nudges her shoulder. “What do you think, Virtch?”

As much as the other guys might protest, it’s her opinion that matters most, and he’d really like to hear what she has to say. 

"I think,” She pauses to take in a deep breath, squaring her shoulders before looking at him. She scans his face once, twice, three times before nodding to herself at whatever she finds written there and responding with determination, “We should go find this Whitney person and talk to her. We can verify the documents and her story, and then, once we’re sure of all that, we – or you – can come up with a plan.”

For some reason the fact that she didn’t dismiss the possibility of him becoming a dad today has him smiling at her and resisting the urge to pull her in for a hug.

“I think that’s a good idea. Do you think you guys would be comfortable with…” His voice trails off as he gestures towards Hannah, and both Chiddy and Jeff nod.

“We’ll babysit, don’t worry. Jeff has his own nieces and nephews so he's not completely worthless,” Chiddy jokes, “Go with Tess and we’ll be here when you get back.”

“Okay.” Scott climbs to his feet, pulling Tessa up along with him, already feeling a little better now that he has some sort of plan for the immediate future. “Please don’t stick any pins in her while I’m gone.”

“For the last time that’s not – “ Chiddy groans and scoffs as he shakes his head, “Never mind. I promise we will figure out how to fasten the diapers correctly.”

“If you did it, it can’t be that hard,” Jeff snorts, dodging the fist to the shoulder Scott aims at him as he walks past the back of the couch and holding up the manila envelope for Tessa to take with them.

Scott grabs his favorite denim jacket from its spot hanging off the back of one of the barstools and shrugs it on, patting the pockets to make sure his wallet and keys are still inside, before turning around to throw in another instruction, “And if she gets hungry, don’t forget to check the heat of the water before adding the formula. It’s one scoop of the powder to every two ounces of water, okay? That one I do know.”

He makes sure Chiddy writes the ratio down in the notes app on his phone, double checking that it’s correct, before following Tessa to the front door. There’s a brief moment where he wonders if he should say goodbye to the baby – kiss her forehead or squeeze her hand or something – but the idea is strange and foreign to him and Tessa calls his name before he can act on the odd impulse.

The air is crisp outside, a bite to the breeze despite the sunshine that signifies the arrival of autumn, and Scott tugs his baseball cap on a little more firmly before buttoning up his jacket and glancing over to make sure Tessa does the same. He knows she runs a little colder than he does, and he’s glad to see a thin scarf tucked under her collar.

They could drive his car, of course, but fans seem to spot him more easily when he’s in it (probably because it’s a shiny black sports car with a license plate that says _LEAF-014_ – another thing to consider in light of recent developments. He can’t exactly fit a car seat inside it) and parking downtown can be a nightmare.

There’s also the rather small issue that he can’t exactly remember where Whitney Pickett lives, just a vague memory of the general area, and he’s hoping that by walking there on foot he can jog his memory before it’s too late and he embarrasses himself. A fact he does not plan on telling Tessa if he can help it.

“Are we walking?” Tessa asks gamely by his side, her heels click-clacking rhythmically on the pavement.

“Yeah, if that’s okay.”

“Of course.” She pauses to unstick a few strands of hair that had gotten stuck to her lip gloss before tucking them behind her ear, then shoves the documents under her armpit before looping her other arm through his. It’s as if she silently knew he needed something solid to keep him tethered to reality right now, and he leans into her a little in appreciation. “Which way?”

“Um… northwest. She lives kind of by an art gallery south of U of T.” That much he does remember, and at least it's a start. 

“Okay.”

Tessa falls silent as they walk, and while normally Scott would be totally comfortable with that, today it has his thoughts running wild and the gears in his head spinning out of control. Part of him is back at the penthouse wondering if Hannah is okay, another part is panicking over seeing one of his one-night-stands again in such an awkward context, and the third part is just panicking in general.

There's no way whatever happens today, whatever gets decided, won't have a huge impact on him. _Forever_. 

He trips over the toe of his sneakers and Tessa has to hang on tight to prevent him from falling flat on his face. 

“Remember when we went skating there last winter and you nearly crashed into the Toronto sign?” She nudges him with her elbow once he's upright again and points to the sign behind the water fountains, currently lit up in shades of pale yellow, blue, and white that alternate between each letter.

“Oh yeah,” Scott huffs in relief, grateful for the distraction, before her words catch up to him and he whips his head around to stare at her, affronted, “What do you mean I almost crashed? No I didn’t!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, would you prefer I call it falling with style?” She tilts her head and flashes him a teasing, tongue-touched smile, and Scott can’t help the chuckle that falls from his lips.

“I did not fall. It was a choreographed slide maneuver. You’d know that if you kept up with current required ice dance elements.”

“Uh huh, sure. Then that’s exactly what I did two months ago at your parent’s summer party. A choreographed slide across the wet grass.”

Scott does laugh then, genuine and full-bodied, at the memory of her slipping spectacularly on the homemade waterslide his brothers had thrown together. “No, Virtch. That was just a fall plain and simple. I’ve never seen such impressive grass stains. Did you ever manage to get the dirt out of your knees, or is some of it still there?”

“If that was a fall, then your incident on the rink was a fall, too. You’re just afraid I’m going to tell the guys about it at the next poker night and your reputation will be ruined.”

He winces and shakes his head, her threat hitting a little too close to home. “No I'm not, because I’m uninviting you. You’re banned from poker night.”

“Nice try. One of the other guys would just invite me. Nikita sends me a text every time you guys get together,” She throws him a wink and Scott groans, “Besides, I bring the best snacks.”

“That’s because you buy them from the bakery down the street from your apartment. Don’t think I don’t know that you’ve been passing them off as your own – I could spill your secrets, too, missy.”

“Like any of the guys would care,” She scoffs, “As long as it tastes good, they’ll eat it.”

“That’s what she –“

“ _Don’t_ say ‘that’s what she said.’” Tessa claps her hand over his mouth and scrunches her eyes shut tight, as if she can block his words out that way, and Scott chuckles into her hand before darting his tongue out to lick her palm – laughing harder when she squeals and wipes her hand off on his jacket.

"I’m just quoting _The Office_! If you would ever watch it with me, you’d understand. It’s a comedy goldmine.” The fact that he can’t seem to get her to be as invested in sitcoms as he is is the one true tragedy of their friendship.

“Scott,” Tessa lets out a sigh with years of patience behind it, “I have watched episodes of _The Office_ with you, I have watched _FRIENDS_ with you, we started binging _Parks and Rec_ three weeks ago, and you keep going on and on about _Brooklyn 99._ I think it’s fair to say I watch plenty of things that you like – I even enjoy some of them. But that doesn’t make that particular quote any funnier.”

“I think it’s hilarious,” He grumbles, shoving his hands inside his pockets and getting a quiet sort of pleasure out of the way the action jerks Tessa’s body into his side thanks to her arm still being connected to his.

“That’s because your sense of humor was stunted by your brothers. It never had the chance to grow and expand.”

“That’s what she –“

“Scott!” Her hand slams over his mouth again and he tugs it free as he laughs at her. Sometimes it's just too fun and easy to rile her up, and he likes the way it makes her face light up and her eyes crackle. “Are we getting close?”

Her question sobers him up quickly, an unwelcome reminder of what they’re out here walking across Toronto for, and he frowns as he looks around at the take-out shops and scaffolding on the street up ahead. “I think so.”

“You _think_ so?”

Scott cringes, mentally berating himself for letting his uncertainty slip, and he spares a quick glance at Tessa to confirm what he’d expected – she’s looking at him in disbelief, mouth agape. He almost pokes her chin and closes it for her, only he’s pretty sure that would earn him a real rebuke.

“I’m not sure I remember exactly where she lives.”

“Are you serious?”

Scott cuts off her question by tugging her across the street, forcing them to jog to beat the light, and taking a right up McCaul. The big stone cathedral on the right side of the street seems somewhat familiar, and he has a flash of a memory of making out with the mysterious Whitney in the Uber as they passed by it. Which means they must be on the right track.

“Gimme a sec, Virtch! It was a year ago and I never saw her again. Do you remember where every single guy you’ve ever been with lives?”

“Yes, but my number of sexual partners isn’t in the upper double-digits,” Tessa snarks, and Scott figures that comment earned the tickle attack to her ribs that he assaults her with – peals of laughter ringing out across the sidewalk and earning them more than a few curious glances from passers-by. 

“Are you slut-shaming me?” He raises his eyebrows at her, pausing his onslaught to give her a chance to reply, and Tessa arches an eyebrow right back.

“Yes,” She states bluntly, biting her bottom lip to keep from giggling, and Scott reaches out and starts mercilessly tickling her again. Right in the ribs where he knows she’s weakest.

“Apologize!”

“Never!” She jumps out of reach and takes off running down the street, and Scott follows hot on her heels. It’s a good thing he wore his Nike’s, because racing Tessa in sneakers would be a fair fight, but Tessa in heels is easy to overrun and he catches up with ease and tackles her in no time – wrapping his arms around her torso and physically lifting her up off the ground.

“Tell me you’re sorry, Virtch.”

“No!”

His arms are occupied trying to hold her in place, so Scott resorts to digging his chin into the juncture where her neck meets her shoulder, tickling her that way instead.

Tessa goes boneless trying to get away, twisting and contorting herself to try and retreat from him, but Scott tightens his hold and follows after her, managing to get a hand on her side and tickle her there again, too.

“Scott! Okay, stop, stop. I give up. You win.”

“Tell me you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry!”

“Tell me I’m amazing.”

“Ugh. You’re amazing.”

“Tell me I’m the most magnificent thing you’ve ever seen.”

“ _Scott.”_

“Come on, Virtch. How else will I know you’re really sorry?”

“Fine. You’re the most magnificent thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Thanks.” He lets her go and she straightens her coat and scarf with a huff, blowing her hair impatiently out of her face while glaring at him. “Hey Virtch?”

“What?”

“That’s what she said.” He jumps out of the way of her swinging hand, clearly intended for his shoulder or chest, and laughs at the blush blossoming high on her cheekbones.

“Are you thirty or twelve?” She rolls her eyes and sticks her nose up high in the air as she steps around him, walking away with purpose and an overdone air of dignity, and Scott catches up again and slips his arm through hers this time.

“I’m only like this for you, T. You’re special,” He winks as her blush deepens, opening his mouth to tease her some more, but then he catches sight of something familiar out of his peripheral. “Hey! That’s it!” He points across the street at the graffiti on the brick wall, “Her building is definitely the one with the giant rooster mural on the side. I remember because I made a joke that –“

Tessa shoves him with a groan loud enough to be heard a few blocks over, “I get it. Let’s go.”

The problem is, the closer they get the more his courage drains out of him. The easy rapport Tessa had pulling him into evaporates in the face of what they’re about to do. The conversation he’s going to have to have and the decisions that come after it.

He’d give anything to go back to thirty seconds ago and keep joking with Tess. Especially if it meant he never had to confront this.

“I don’t want to do this. I have no idea what to say.”

“It’ll be fine, Scott,” She gives his arm a reassuring squeeze and opens the door to the apartment building, practically dragging him in alongside her, “Do you remember her apartment number?”

“Fourteen.” He remembers it now. Remembers the comment Whitney had made about her apartment number matching his jersey and that fate must have had a hand in their meeting. It had seemed trite at the time, just another comment to disregard and forget, but now he can’t help but wonder if there was some truth to her words.

“Let’s go.” Tessa’s hand finds his as they walk down the hallway, and she knocks on the door for him when it becomes clear that Scott isn’t going to be able to do it himself. Suddenly his tongue seems to be glued to the roof of his mouth and his hands seem permanently clenched into fists. His limbs locking up in a move not dissimilar to the Tin Man at the beginning of _The Wizard of Oz_.

What he wouldn’t give for some magic ruby slippers right now.

There’s the sound of scuffling inside, followed by a thump and some muttered cursing, before the door swings open to reveal a petite, sun-kissed blonde in a crop top and denim shorts looking up at them both with a friendly smile.

“Hey! – Oh it’s you.” Her cheery expression falls as soon as she sets eyes on Scott, her lips turning downward in a frown, “I was wondering if I’d see you before I left. What do you want?”

“Hi Whitney,” He swallows and mentally shakes himself, _get your act together, Moir_ , “It’s nice to see you, too.”

“Give me a break, Scott, I know why you’re here. Who’s she?” She sticks her thumb out at Tessa, who promptly releases Scott’s hand so that she can reach out and introduce herself, smiling her most professional, job-interview-ready, smile. Whitney shakes her hand, but her wary expression doesn’t change.

“She’s my lawyer,” Scott answers, somewhat robotically, and Tessa looks up at the ceiling as if to say, _lord grant me patience_.

"I'm Tessa Virtue." 

Whitney ignores her and immediately gets defensive, folding her arms across her chest and stepping backwards a few feet to create more distance between the three of them, “You brought a lawyer?!”

“Not quite,” Tessa rushes to correct her, but it’s too late. Whitney continues talking right over her, shooting daggers at Scott’s head.

“Are you suing me or something? Because that’s completely uncalled for. You don’t have any grounds to sue me. I haven’t asked for anything.”

“No,” Scott jumps in. The conversation is getting away from him and he needs to get it back on track before they completely derail and crash and burn. He also needs to stop using train metaphors. “I just wanted to make sure all of this was legit. And, um, talk to you about it.”

“It’s legit, Scott,” Whitney sighs and steps aside, holding the door open wider so that he and Tessa can enter. Her apartment isn’t at all how he remembered, mostly because back then there had been more furniture and less stacks of moving boxes, not to mention the two big suitcases propped open against the wall. “We fucked, the condom broke, I got pregnant. What more is there? I’m not looking for child support, I’m not looking for reimbursement or damages or whatever. She had to stay somewhere until the agency could get her and I didn’t have any other choice. Your lawyer is obsolete.”

“I’m also his best friend and moral support,” Tessa cuts in, looking a little offended at being called obsolete, “Just… for what it’s worth.”

“I just don’t get it, Whitney. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Because I wasn’t looking for some charity handout. I was raised by a single mom, so I figured I could do it, too. But then the baby got here and I just… I have things I want to do with my life. I’m not ready to be a parent right now and more importantly I don’t _want_ to be, and Hannah deserves someone who does. I wouldn’t have dropped her off with you like that if I had a choice, but my flight leaves tonight and I couldn’t delay it any longer and I was hoping to avoid this conversation.”

Scott feels like his head is spinning. He’s not sure what he expected from the baby's mother, but this isn’t it. Part of him had sort of assumed they’d have at least a few days to talk everything over and work this out. After all, wouldn’t the right thing be for both Hannah’s parents to come to a decision together? But now it looks like they won’t get that chance. “Flight? Where are you going?”

“Classes start on Monday.” Whitney picks up the tape gun resting on top of a nearby shelf and gets back to work closing up her boxes. “I have to be in Hawaii by tomorrow.”

Tessa jumps in to help, folding some of the clothes on the back of the couch into neat piles. “Hawaii?”

Whitney looks at her strangely, but doesn't stop her. “I got into the graduate program there. Marine Biology. It’s my dream and I can’t do that if I’m carrying around a baby on my hip. Adoption is what’s best for everybody. Honestly I’m kind of shocked you didn’t just sign the papers and call the agency right away.”

“I know you don’t really know me, but I’m not that kind of guy. Parenthood is a big deal to me.” Scott’s trying not to be offended, but he can’t deny that her casual assumption hurts him. Is that all he is to people? Some meat-headed jock who doesn’t take anything seriously?

“Well, I’m sorry that I assumed the guy with the biggest reputation on the Leafs wouldn’t want to have a baby.”

She doesn’t say it to be mean. He can tell by the way she’s already focusing on packing and the lack of any hint of maliciousness in her voice. But it still cuts him. He knows his reputation, of course he does, but he hadn’t really _thought_ about it until now.

It makes him feel like shit.

A hand winds its way through his, pinky finger slipping between his middle and index, and he feels Tessa’s gentle, yet firm grip take hold as she stops helping with the clothes and steps up beside him instead. “It’s too bad you felt that way, Whitney. Scott’s an amazing guy and one of the most reliable, competent people I’ve ever met. You should have given him the chance to make the decision whether or not to be involved months ago. He deserved to know.”

If it wouldn't be totally inappropriate right now, he'd be pulling Tessa in for the biggest hug of her life. 

"Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but it doesn’t matter now. Everything you need is in there,” She gestures towards the folder Tessa’s still holding under her arm, “Including the number of the adoption agency. It’s all taken care of.”

“And if he decides not to call the agency and keep her instead?”

Scott’s head jerks around toward Tessa, but she doesn’t look at him – instead keeping her focus completely on Whitney, who just shrugs.

“If that’s what Scott wants, then that’s great. I signed away my rights. He’s listed on the birth certificate. I’m not going to fight him on it. Now, if you guys don’t mind, I really need to finish packing.”

“We’ll leave you to it. Good luck with your graduate program,” Tessa tugs on his hand, pulling him in the direction of the door, “It was nice to meet you.”

Whitney snorts, “Likewise.”

They’re nearly out the door when Scott pauses, turning back one last time. “Why the name Hannah?”

Whitney stops stuffing piles of books away and stands up to look at him, her lips curving upwards in a sardonic smile, “It means ‘God has favored me’ in Hebrew. It seemed ironic. Bye, Scott.”

“Bye, Whitney.”

Scott tugs the brim of his cap down lower over his face before stuffing his hands inside his pockets as they walk down the beige stone walkway along the waterfront by his apartment. A few people had given him some second-glances and it makes him nervous that he’s about to be bombarded with fans – something he doesn’t need or want right now.

There’s a steady breeze that grows stronger the closer they get to the water - rustling the leaves of the trees that are planted in a neat row along the buildings - and grey clouds over Lake Ontario threaten to turn the pleasant autumn weather they’d started out with into something nasty. It doesn't exactly contradict his mood.

Tessa walks beside him in silence reminiscent of how their walk began, the same silence that accompanied them all the way back from Whitney's apartment, and guilt eats away at him with every step he hears her take. Her feet must be killing her by now, but she hasn’t uttered a single complaint or asked to go back inside, and he can’t bring himself to stand still right now. It’s as if to stop walking would mean letting his thoughts and fears catch up to him.

That is, until they reach the end of the dock and there’s nowhere else to go but to turn around and Scott’s forced to stop. He's not ready to backtrack and face the city again.

“She seemed nice,” Tessa slowly breaks the silence, and it takes a second for him to register her words.

“What?”

“Whitney. She seemed nice. Pretty, too. Very Alicia Silverstone circa _Clueless._ I can see why you…” She pauses, thinking over her words and choosing them carefully, “Why you liked her.”

Scott snorts, “I guess.” Leave it to Tessa to find the most polite way to say fucked and forgot about. He’s pretty sure if she ever had a one night stand she’d send the guy flowers and a well-written thank you note afterwards.

“And a graduate degree in marine biology,” She whistles low and long, “That’s pretty impressive.”

Scott hums noncommittally. It is impressive, and he totally understands why Whitney would give Hannah up for adoption if that’s her dream and she feels like she can’t do that and be a good mom at the same time. But it doesn’t make his life any easier. Or help with the decision he knows he has to make today.

“What are you thinking?” Tessa’s voice is gentle, without pressure, and Scott sighs and allows her to wrap one arm around his side.

There’s a rock by his foot on the wooden deck and he almost kicks it away with the toe of his sneaker, but then decides to pick it up instead. “I don’t know.” He winds up and tosses the rock across the water, and the two of them watch as it skips across the waves a few times before sinking beneath the deep blue crests.

“I should give her up, right?” He asks, feeling as gloomy and grey as the rain clouds, “I mean, my schedule is so busy all the time. I have to travel out of town a lot. I definitely don’t feel like I’m at a place right now to start a family - especially as a single dad. It doesn’t make sense to keep her. And Whitney already has everything with the adoption agency set up and ready to go. They probably have a nice, normal family picked out just waiting for her to be delivered. All I need to do is sign. I don’t know why I’m hesitating.”

“It’s okay to be confused, Scott,” Tessa says quietly, “This is a really big decision and it was thrust on you without any warning. It would be _worse_ if you didn’t care at all. It’s obvious you want to make the right choice. That’s something I’ve always admired about you.”

“Thanks, T.” It means the world to him to hear her say that.

“Hey, come here,” She wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him down for a hug that Scott gratefully returns – wrapping his arms all the way around her and burying his face into her neck as he sinks fully into the embrace. She smells like a mixture of strawberry shampoo and vanilla body wash and it immediately helps him relax. “Whatever you decide, I’ll support you. You know that, right?”

“Mmhmm,” He hums into her collarbone, keeping his lips sealed to avoid choking on her hair, and he can feel her shiver as she tries not to laugh when his chin accidentally bumps that sensitive spot again.

“And if you want to make a pro/con list to help you make a decision, you know I’m an expert at them.” It’s a weak joke, but it makes him chuckle all the same. He knows only too well how neurotic she can be about her lists, but he also can’t deny they’ve been a big help to him a time or two. It’s how he ended up playing for the Leafs instead of the Flames way back when he was starting out.

“Thanks, Virtch, but I don’t think this is something that can be decided with a list.”

“Hey, you’d be surprised.”

He probably would, but he already knows what he's supposed to do. What's expected in this situation. 

“I should sign the papers.” He nods mostly to himself and releases her, missing the way Tessa frowns at him. “Let’s go home. I’m afraid to see how Chiddy and Jeff have handled babysitting.”

“Okay,” She follows him back down the waterfront, pulling out her phone and shooting off a quick succession of texts to somebody.

“Work?” He asks, flicking his head towards the device, “I hope you’re not in too much trouble for missing a lot of it today.”

"Don’t worry about it. They can live without me for a day. You needed me more.”

****

“Turn this off!” Chiddy’s emphatic command is the first thing they hear as they enter Scott’s apartment and start taking off their jackets, and he immediately wonders what on earth his friends have been up to while he and Tess were out. The tone of Chiddy’s voice isn’t exactly encouraging.

“It’s fine. It’s not like she understands it. She can hardly see past her bottle, anyway.” Comes Jeff’s reply, and Scott and Tessa share a look before marching into the living room to see for themselves what the source of the argument is.

Apparently it’s a rather intense sex scene between two _Game of Thrones_ characters, complete with plenty of nudity and the sound effects to go with it. Not exactly the kind of afternoon programming Scott expected to walk in on, but then, Jeff has been going through a re-watch in his post-Justin break up, so maybe it’s not entirely without precedence.

“She’s too young for this! You’re corrupting her innocence!” Chiddy lets the bottle clatter to the floor as he rushes to cover Hannah’s eyes with the palm of his hand, and she starts crying in protest. Apparently much more concerned about the sudden lack of food than she is whatever’s going on onscreen. 

"Chiddy,” Jeff rolls his eyes, and leans down to retrieve the bottle – popping it back into the grateful baby’s mouth and not letting go until he’s sure Chiddy has a hand on it again, “She is three months old. Get over it.”

“We have to have _standards_ , Jeff,” Chiddy shoots back, tilting his entire torso away from the screen to get the TV out of Hannah’s line of sight, “What kind of morals are you teaching your kids? Who knows what her brain is absorbing right now!”

“I don’t have any kids yet, and I’m pretty sure all she thinks when she sees a pair of breasts is ‘lunch!’” Jeff quips with a snort, and Chiddy glares at him.

“Hey guys,” Scott cuts in quickly before Chiddy can retort, ending the argument before it can heat up any further, “How did everything go?”

“You owe me twenty bucks for a new Star Wars t-shirt.” Jeff holds out his hand over the back of the couch in expectation, and Scott shakes his head as he opens his wallet and hands over the bill.

“What happened?”

“Hannah had a bit of an accident,” Chiddy explains, scrunching up his nose in disgust, “A complete blow-out, actually.”

It’s then that Scott notices the baby is missing the clothes she was wearing earlier and is now clad only in her diaper that’s being held together by – “Is that duct tape?”

Hadn't they all agreed duct tape was a bad idea? 

“We were having a closure issue after the explosion," Jeff defends himself, "At least be grateful I didn’t let Chiddy use the safety pins.”

Sure enough there’s a pile of pins resting precariously on the arm of the couch, and Scott scoops them up and tosses them into the junk drawer in the kitchen. Duct tape may look ridiculous, but at least there’s no risk of stabbing the poor girl with it.

“Do you know how hard it is to get clothes on a baby?” Chiddy points to the balled up clothes on the cushion beside him, some sort of white onesie with lady bugs on it, that he'd clearly given up on. “They are surprisingly strong when it comes to not moving their limbs where you want them to.”

Scott chuckles and drops down on the couch beside them, content to get lost in the show for a little while. Anything to keep himself distracted. Part of him wonders if he should offer to take Hannah from Chiddy, but… no. She seems perfectly happy where she is and she hasn’t finished her bottle yet. It would be rude to interrupt her. Chiddy has it handled.

“You gonna join us, Tess?” Jeff props one of his legs up on the couch to face Tessa, who hasn’t made a move to sit down yet.

“No. I’d love to stay, but I have my study group tonight and I really can’t miss a session. Plus I’m hosting it at my place which means I need to clean and get everything organized and warn Jordan before everyone comes over.”

Scott whips his head around in surprise – he’d really expected her to stay – and barely catches the tail end of the look she gives Jeff. Something intense and meaningful, like the conversation they’re having with their eyes is entirely different from the one they’re having with their mouths.

He doesn’t like the way it makes him feel left out, and he opens his mouth to ask them what’s going on when Tessa walks over and drops a quick peck on top of his head and give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. 

“I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Okay." He cocks his head, wordlessly asking her a question, but she doesn't react. "Thanks for your help today.”

“Any time.” She gives his shoulder another quick squeeze before waving at the other guys and walking out of the room, and Scott has just enough time to shout, “Don’t forget to eat something tonight!” at her before the front door closes.

“Are you going into practice today?” Chiddy sets the now empty bottle aside and lifts Hannah up to his shoulder to burp her, his hand falling awkwardly against her back. "Or are you going to let your coach know you can't make it?" It’s obvious he has no previous experience doing that, and Scott can only watch for so long before he’s holding his hands out and taking the baby from him.

“I guess not. I'll text Babs and let him know I won’t be there.”

“What will you tell him?” Jeff digs around in the diaper bag and pulls out a cotton blanket, folding it up and handing it over to Scott to use as a burp cloth.

“I don’t know. I guess that there’s been a family emergency and I need to take care of it. Unless one of you wants to babysit for me some more.”

“I can’t,” Jeff shakes his head and stands up, arching his arms over his head to stretch before heading over to the kitchen to grab his keys off the rack on the wall, “I’m going over to Justin’s. He’s making his famous ribollita for dinner tonight and we’re going to ‘talk.’” He makes air quotes with his fingers on the last word, and Chiddy gives him a big thumbs up.

“It’ll be great this time, you’ll see.”

“I hope so.” Jeff shrugs his jacket on over his snug black shirt, a look Scott has heard him describe as “hot, but not like I’m trying,” and gives them both a little wave. “Wish me luck!”

The front door hasn’t even been shut for one second before Chiddy is already up off the couch, slipping on his shoes and double-knotting the laces.

“Where are _you_ going?” Scott asks a little desperately, the panic from earlier threatening to return at the prospect of being left alone. 

“To visit my parents. It’s my mom’s birthday.”

"But… you’re going to leave me here? By myself?”

“Scott, you’ve babysat hundreds of times for your brothers. You’ll be fine.”

“But that was different. It wasn’t – they weren’t –“

The word remains unspoken between them, but he can tell by the way Chiddy’s face softens that he understands.

“You’ll be _fine_ ,” Chiddy repeats himself, this time with an encouraging smile, “I’ll be back later tonight. Maybe tomorrow morning if the rain gets bad. You can survive until then.”

Scott watches helplessly as his last friend exits the apartment, leaving him all alone with the baby, and he can do nothing but stand there bouncing slightly and patting her back as he tries to stave off the rising panic in his chest.

Hannah lets out a rather impressive belch and Scott finds himself pausing in his worry to audibly congratulate her. It’s weird being proud of someone for such a normal bodily function, but he kind of is. He might not have much experience, but he does know a gassy baby is an unhappy one. And there is something to be said for the way she snuggles into him afterwards that helps him calm down. 

_Game of Thrones_ is still running in the background and he grabs the controller and clicks through the channels until he finds a rerun of the kid’s show _Caillou_ in French. Objectively, he knows that Hannah couldn’t care less what’s on TV, but for some reason it just doesn’t feel right watching an adult show while taking care of her. There’s got to be some sort of educational benefit to children’s TV that she can absorb. Definitely more than in a show like _Game of Thrones_.

After all, French seems a lot more practical than Dothraki. 

The first few hours, much to his relief, fly by pretty smoothly. He lays Hannah down for a nap not long after Chiddy leaves on his bed surrounded by a square of pillows to box her in. He’s not sure if she can roll yet, but better safe than sorry. Then he calls his coach, makes dinner, (well, he orders it. He’s not really in the right frame of mind to be handling burners or ovens at the moment.) and catches up on the other NHL games going on that night around North America.

It isn’t until she wakes up crying and spits up all over herself and he figures she could really use a bath that things start to go downhill.

First, it turns out that baby skin in water is about as easy to hold onto as a wriggling fish – which is to say, almost impossible. He accidentally gets soap in her eyes while trying to stop her from sliding underneath the water that he filled up too high (hindsight is twenty-twenty) and that makes her cry and the guilt from that sound makes him want to set himself on fire.

Second, after getting her out of the bath and dried off and her tears wiped away, she pees all over the front of his shirt while he’s retrieving a fresh diaper out of the bag, and Scott has no choice but to let it happen unless he wants to get it all over his floor. He can't really even be mad about it. It seems like fair revenge after the soap incident. 

Third, he tries to make her a bottle one-handed while balancing her in the crook of his elbow and accidentally knocks it into the sink while screwing on the nipple – losing the entire contents down the drain and forcing him to start all over. He may have a lot of money, but even he knows baby formula is practically powdered gold. 

And fourth, just when she’s fed and clean and dressed and ready for bed, Hannah decides something is making her unhappy, and she starts to wail.

Not just fussy crying, but full on miserable screams with big fat crocodile tears running down her cheeks that Scott just _knows_ are specifically designed to tug at his heartstrings and make him feel like a terrible person, even though he has no idea what’s happened to justify this reaction.

He tries everything: making her a new bottle (she rejects it), giving her a pacifier (she spits it out), checking her diaper, making sure the zipper of her pajamas isn’t caught anywhere. He tries singing the Leafs’ locker room victory song this season, but one line into, “Bring that ass back like a boom boom boom boom” and he quickly changes his mind. 

He even tries singing a rousing rendition of the name game to try and get her to smile, “Hannah Hannah bo-bannah banana-fana-fo-fannah fee-fi-mo-mannah Hannah!” But it’s safe to say she is unimpressed – pausing crying just long enough to give him a look that he’s sure is unintentional but would make his mother proud and almost manages to make him laugh. 

“What’s wrong, baby girl?” He asks helplessly after almost thirty minutes have gone by, “What’s made you so sad?”

He starts bouncing a little more vigorously and her sobs seem to quiet, so he starts jogging in place. When that seems to help too, he begins jogging in wide circles around the room. Round and round and round until her tears stop falling and her cries turn to sniffles. Until eventually her tiny head drops exhausted onto his shoulder.

He must have clocked at least a mile on his hardwood floors by the time he's certain she's asleep, and Scott can feel the ache in his calves as he gently lays her down inside the pillow square from earlier on his bed. Who cares if he missed the gym and hockey practice today - taking care of a baby is just as hard. He barely has enough energy to double-check that there’s nothing around her that could cover her face before climbing into the other side of the bed and falling asleep, fully clothed, and passing out. 

His dream starts out well. He's just won the Stanley Cup and is giving a press conference - grinning and celebrating with his teammates - when one of the reporters asks, "Did you know Hannah is missing?" 

Suddenly he can hear a crying baby, but no matter how hard he looks he can't seem to find her. Panic crushes in on him from all sides, darkness caving in on his vision, and Scott wakes up with a jolt. He immediately scrambles to turn on the light by the side of his bed, rolling over to check on Hannah just as soon as the orange glow from the lamp is casting enough light in the room to see her properly.

She’s still sleeping, her chest rising and falling in a steady pattern, little tufts of air being expelled from between her pink lips, and his head collapses with a heavy sigh of relief on top of one of the pillows surrounding her - his heartbeat struggling to return back to normal. 

It’s the quietest moment he’s had with her ever since she’d arrived on his doorstep almost twenty-four hours ago, and he can't help but reflect on how much his world has changed in such a short amount of time.

For the first time, he allows himself to indulge in observing her. Something he hadn’t let himself do all day when everything was so chaotic and all he could think was, “Is this really happening?” Taking note of her long eyelashes, her perfect little nose, her rosy cheeks, her tiny little ears. She looks like an angel, wrapped in pink and so soft and warm. One of her hands lies curled slightly open on the mattress close to him, and he slides his index finger against her palm and smiles when her hand instinctively flexes around it. His exhaustion fading to the background with the tender action. 

The constant pitter-patter of the rain falling outside provides the background music to their little cocoon inside his room, and it seems as though the rest of the world fades away. Until it’s just him and Hannah.

His daughter.

The words pop into his head unannounced and unplanned, but once he’s thought them he can’t seem to let them go. All day he’d avoided thinking of her as anything but “the baby” or her proper name. Never allowed himself to focus on their relationship. But now, here, in the quiet of the middle of the night, he lets himself speak the words out loud to her.

“My daughter.”

And in that one second, everything changes all over again.

He can’t give her up. She’s his baby, his little girl. He’s her _dad_. And more than that, he really, really wants to be. He wants to comfort her when she cries and experience her first laugh and watch her learn to crawl and walk and teach her how to hold a hockey stick.

Maybe it’s foolish, maybe it’s even a little selfish, and he might make a million mistakes, but he wants to keep her.

Digging his phone out of the pocket of his jeans where it had been pressing uncomfortably into his hipbone, he calls the first person he can think of.

"Scott?” Her voice is slurred and raspy, and she sounds adorably confused to be receiving a phone call from him at three in the morning.

“Tess,” He whispers, the words bursting out of him, “I want to do this.”

She sounds only slightly more awake when she asks, “Do what?”

“I want to keep Hannah. I want to be her dad.”

Her breath hitches and then the line goes silent for a minute, but he swears he can hear Tessa smiling through the phone. When she speaks her voice is thick with emotion, like she’s on the edge of tears, “I knew it.”

“You did?” That surprises him. Even he didn’t know what decision he was going to make until about two minutes ago. The fact that Tessa sounds so confident is a bit jarring. “How?”

“I could just tell,” She says softly, “I thought if you just had some time alone with her..." She trails off and Scott huffs out a little laugh at the revelation that she must have done some sneaky conspiring with Chiddy and Jeff. "You’re going to be the best dad, Scott.”

He swallows thickly, tears stinging the back of his own eyes now, “You think so?”

“I know so." Comes her quick reply. Her voice is soft, but full of conviction, and that bolsters Scott's confidence in his decision. 

“Thanks, Virtch. I’ll let you get back to sleep.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” He agrees, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Tomorrow he'll have a million things to figure out. There's furniture to buy, more clothes to get, a _lot_ more diapers and wipes to stock up on. He'll have to explain the situation to his coach and teammates and figure out some sort of schedule with Chiddy and Jeff and maybe hire a nanny. And he'll have to call his parents and brothers and break the news to them somehow that there's a new addition to the family. But none of that matters right now. 

Tossing his phone onto his nightstand, Scott rolls back over to look at Hannah, grinning from ear to ear, only to find her slowly blinking up at him. They stare at each other for a moment with their matching eyes, before Scott reaches out and softly strokes her cheek and the corner of her mouth tilts up in a sleepy smile – tilting his whole world on its axis along with it. His heart feels like its overflowing with emotion, and he knows without a doubt that he loves this little girl.

She’s his daughter, he's her _dad_ , and he’s going to keep her.


	3. i'll eat you up, i love you so

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott does some shopping and more people find out about Hannah.

** i'll eat you up, i love you so **

****

“This place is already way too cutesy for me.” Chiddy shuts the engine off and relaxes back into his seat, eyeing the brown brick building in front of them with no small amount of apprehension – clearly regretting his offer to accompany Scott on his shopping trip. They’d driven his car out to the store in Etobicoke because a midsize SUV made much more sense for shopping than Scott’s sports car and could actually fit a car seat in the back, and Chiddy seems like he’s about to turn it right back around and go home.

"It had the best ratings on Google.” Scott unbuckles his seatbelt and climbs out of the car, not giving Chiddy the chance to leave. “And I need supplies. You can handle the cute for an hour or two.”

“An _hour_? How much stuff are you planning to buy today?”

“I don’t know… Enough to become a real dad, I guess.” Scott shrugs and starts finagling with the straps holding down Hannah's car seat. He’s only had to mess with them a few times so far, but each instance has been a serious struggle. It’s like modern baby seats were created with the sole purpose of frustrating any adult who tries to untangle them, and while he appreciates the safety aspect, he really wishes they had a single button that made everything pop free instead of the maze of straps and buckles that seem determined to outwit him.

“It’s called _Snuggle Bugz_. Bugs with a Z, Scott.”

He can hear Chiddy muttering to himself as he leans up against the front of the car and shoves his hands in his pockets, and Scott laughs and shakes his head down at Hannah.

“Uncle Chiddy’s more of a baby than you are, Han,” He says the words just loud enough for Chiddy to hear him, and laughs when his friend shouts, “Hey!” in protest.

Scott laughs again and shakes his head, feeling a surge of affection for his friend. He’d made himself sick with worry all morning over how Chiddy and Jeff would react when he told them that he was going to keep Hannah – convinced himself that they were going to tell him he was insane and that he couldn’t possibly do this – but they’d both simply smiled and given him hugs and said they already figured that’s what he was going to do, they were just waiting for him to admit it. They’d even promised to help out as much as possible and be, “the best pseudo-uncles a girl could wish for,” and Scott won’t lie, their quick and enthusiastic acceptance and support had made him tear up a bit more than he’d like to admit.

“Don’t worry, Chiddy, I already made a list of the big items I want to buy, so that will cut down on our time here by a lot.” Scott pats his pocket where the crumpled up paper is being safely kept, and Chiddy’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“When did you have time to do that between sleeping, deciding to be a single dad, and making blueberry pancakes for me and Jeff this morning?”

The blueberry pancakes (Jeff’s favorite) with homemade maple flavored whipped-cream (Chiddy’s favorite) _may_ have been a bribe to soften them up before telling them about his decision, but Scott doesn’t think they minded the offering based on how they’d scarfed it all down. And even though the food had ultimately proved to be unnecessary, Scott doesn’t regret taking the time to make it given the fact that he’s suddenly adding a fourth roommate to their apartment – one who will probably be louder and much messier than the three of them.

“I was up pretty early,” He says by way of explanation before leading Chiddy into the _cutesy_ store.

The interior, rather than being an explosion of pinks and blues and baby murals, is actually pretty minimalist in design. Sandy wood flooring, white walls, and exposed piping on the ceiling, combined with the layout of the shelves and aisles being very neat and organized, gives the place a very relaxed, laid-back feeling. But none of that prevents it from being any less overwhelming.

There’s just so much _stuff_. Cribs and car seats and clothes and toys and an assortment of bottles and tubes that Scott can’t possibly began to categorize or understand.

“How can something so small need so much stuff?” Scott asks, picking his jaw up from off the floor and readjusting his grip on the handle of the car seat. Chiddy simply shakes his head, equally floored by the impressive display.

"Welcome to Snuggle Bugz!” A bright, cheery young woman bounces up to them, her perky ginger ponytail swinging dangerously on the back of her head and her name-tag introducing her as Charity, “How can I help you today?”

“Um, hi Charity,” Scott takes her hand in a rather bumbled handshake, refusing to acknowledge Chiddy’s gleeful smirk at witnessing one of his rare awkward moments, “I have a list.” He retrieves the wadded up ball of paper from his pocket and sets the carrier down so that he can unroll it, blushing under Charity’s judgmental gaze as he smooths it out enough to read his messy scrawl, “I need a Babyletto Hudson crib. It was rated the number one best baby crib online.”

“That is an excellent choice.” She gestures for them to follow her over to the corner of the store where one of the cribs is on display in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. “This model is all about creating a safe environment for your child. It is an excellent example of a crib that provides parents with a solution that will last them for years, and it can turn into your child’s bed in a couple of years if you use the converter kit. Also, it comes in multiple colors: black, espresso, espresso and white, grey, grey and white, natural, white –“

“White,” Scott cuts her off, “White is fine.” He’s no interior designer – owes most of his apartment’s furniture and design to Tess and Jeff, actually – but all of the other colors seem too dark for a little girl’s room. He can’t imagine putting Hannah to sleep surrounded by black furniture.

“Perfect!” Charity writes his choice down on a piece of paper and looks up at him with a smile, “Do you want to take it home with you today or order it to be delivered? We offer same-day delivery for an extra fee, if necessary.”

“I don’t think that will fit in my car. Not with everything else we have to get today,” Chiddy muses, reaching out and gripping the top of the crib, shaking it a little to check its sturdiness and using his arms to measure its size.

“Same day delivery, then,” Scott nods. He hates giving out his address (most fans are great, but some can be disturbingly invasive), but desperate times call for desperate measures. Sharing the bed with Hannah last night had worked as a temporary solution, but he’d come across an article warning about the dangers of sharing a bed with infants and SIDS at about four in the morning that had made his blood run cold. That’s definitely not a long-term option.

“Great! What else can I get for you?”

“Let’s see,” He looks at his list again, “I need to order a crib mattress, blankets, the UPPAbaby Vista stroller in grey, a changing table, a rocking chair, a play mat, and I’d like to look through your clothes and stuff, too.”

Charity’s eyes grow wider and wider as his list goes on and on, and she eventually stops him by plucking it out of his hands and looking over it herself. “I can place an order for all of this while you browse the store. Let me handle it.”

“Thank you,” Scott smiles, huffing out a relieved sort of chuckle, “I really appreciate it.” He picks up the car seat again and stifles a groan. It’s not painfully heavy or anything, but it’s so damn awkward to hold – banging up against his knee every other second. He won’t be surprised if he has a bruise there by the end of the day. Not that he can’t handle a little black and blue, but usually any marks he has are the work of two-hundred-plus pound guys in hockey gear and part of the job – not the result of a cumbersome car seat. 

“Can I recommend a baby wrap as well?” Charity asks, glancing down at the car seat before back up at him, “I think it will really make your life more convenient. We have plenty of fabric ones that are popular.”

“Fabric?” Scott takes the long strip of grey striped cotton that she hands him off the shelf as an example, unfolding it with increasing horror and confusion, “You mean, people wrap this around themselves and just trust that it’ll be enough to keep the baby in place?”

“Yes,” She laughs, “It’s perfectly safe, I promise. A lot of parents find them more comfortable than the traditional carriers. I’d be happy to show you how it’s done.” She takes it back from him and starts winding it around herself, throwing it over her shoulders and wrapping it around her waist before tying it off.

It’s impressive that she was able to do that so fast – he can already tell if he tried he’d end up a tangled mess – but despite her reassurances, it still looks too flimsy for his liking. “Don’t you have something, I don’t know, more sturdy? I think I’d be too nervous to carry her around like this. I’d worry about her slipping through it somehow.”

“Once you get the hang of wrapping it around your chest properly, I promise there’s no risk of that happening, but if you prefer something more sturdy then I can recommend the Ergobaby Omni 360. Plenty of straps and buckles, very secure, and good for the baby’s hips.”

She’s laughing at him. He’s not an idiot and it’s obvious by the barely contained laughter in her voice and the humor sparkling behind her grey eyes, but he doesn’t care. There’s no way he’s going to trust the safety of his daughter to a thin strip of fabric, no matter how popular it is. Only the sturdiest, safest options for his little girl.

“That sounds perfect. Yes, please.”

“Great, I’ll add that to the order. In the meantime, here’s a shopping cart for you to put her in while you peruse the store.”

She helps him click the car seat into place on top of the shopping cart and Scott makes a mental note to watch a bunch of YouTube tutorials or find a good new parent blog when he gets home. Clearly there’s a lot to learn – even more than he was anticipating.

“Thank you. You’re a real life saver.” She blushes and Scott finds his mind drifting to whether or not he should ask her out. She’s pretty cute and definitely seems like an encyclopedia of baby knowledge, which God knows he could use right now, but he dismisses the thought as soon as it arrives. One night stands are what got him into this mess, and he should probably focus on sorting out his current situation before he even considers getting into that lifestyle again.

“Where are you going to put all this stuff when we get home?” Chiddy starts thumbing through the baby books, pulling out a few and glancing at the covers, scrunching up his nose at some of the dumber titles before putting them back. “Your room is pretty big, but I don’t think you can assemble a whole nursery inside it.”

“I decided to convert the bedroom next to mine into her nursery. We hardly ever use it for guests anyway.” Scott picks up a nearby CD called _The Mozart Effect: Music for Newborns_ and skims the playlist on the back. Maybe Hannah would like listening to classical music – it definitely seems more beneficial than the crap they play on the radio, but he’s not sure he can categorically say it would be better than making her a playlist of The Tragically Hip songs, either. If you ask him, Gord Downie belongs right up there with Mozart.

Chiddy hums in agreement, “Good idea. Hey!” He tugs one of the paperback books free with a childlike grin, pulling Scott away from his mental music debate, “My mom used to read this to me when I was little!”

Peering over at it, Scott recognizes the cover of _Where the Wild Things Are_ instantly. It’s hard to forget the iconic image of the sleeping minotaur-like creature and sailboat that graced his own boyhood shelf, the dog-eared pages of his family copy showing signs of a book that was well-loved. He’d demanded that his mom read that to him every single night before bed, until he could recite every page by memory (something he often did while she read aloud, probably driving her crazy), and he grins at the memory.

“Toss that in the cart. We’re getting it.”

Chiddy sets it down gently, almost reverently, and turns back to the books with real interest this time, searching through them with purpose and adding to the steadily growing pile inside Scott’s shopping cart. Scott doesn’t hesitate to join in. 

Before he knows it, they’ve filled up half the cart with titles ranging from _The Hungry Caterpillar_ and _Goodnight Moon_ to _The Tale of Peter Rabbit_ and _The Adventures of Winnie the Pooh_. Screw needing a separate nursery to house the furniture, they’re going to need a separate nursery just for Hannah’s personal library.

“Tessa would be so proud of us right now,” Chiddy says with a laugh as he looks at their collection, and Scott chuckles in agreement.

“She’ll probably triple it, too. I’m sure she’ll have a list of all the other amazing children’s books we forgot.” He can’t wait to read some of them to Hannah later – hopefully on the new rocking chair he’s just ordered.

“Scott, look at this,” Chiddy holds up a white onesie with a huge grin, “It’s got a moose and a maple leaf on it!” He starts going through the rest of the rack, “And this one says, ‘Born to explore Canada,’ and this one has a bear with maple leaf ears. I think I’ve changed my mind about this store – it’s perfect for you.”

“We’re buying all of these,” Scott quickly agrees, grabbing a Canada onesie off the rack with a smile. Literally everyone in his life is going to give him so much shit for this, but hey – he plays for a team called the Maple Leafs and he’s been to the Olympics twice on the national team (where they won gold both times, thank you very much!) so if anyone has an excuse to dress their kid in an abundance of patriotic material, it’s him. “All of these clothes say three to six months though, but that makes no sense. Which is it? Three or six? Which one do I buy?”

"I don’t know,” Chiddy holds a few different sizes up for comparison, “Some of these say newborn, but others say zero to three. What’s the difference between newborn and zero? Aren’t they, by definition, the same thing?”

"Excuse me,” An older woman walks up to them and peeks in over the car seat to get a good look at Hannah, “How old is your baby?” 

“She’s three months,” Scott replies, “Well, slightly over that. Three and a half months, I guess.”

“Then you need to buy her the three to six months size. They give you a range because babies grow at different rates – some are skinny and others fatten up fast. It’s really more of a suggestion than anything,” She pauses and looks at Hannah again, who blinks back up at her with equal curiosity, “Your baby looks like a good size for her age – do you know what percentile she’s measuring in for height and weight?”

“What what she’s measuring for what?”

If it’s possible for a single look to shrink him down to the size of ant, this lady would have just done it.

“Her percentile. When was her last check-up?”

“Um… I don’t actually know. She’s been living with her mom since she was born.” Strike that. _This_ look just shrunk him down to an ant. Smaller than an ant. A tiny insect this lady would willingly crush under her boot. Scott rushes to defend himself against the severely judgmental look she’s giving him, “I’m a newly single father,” He explains, “I mean, newly a father, not newly single. I’ve been single for a while, but the fatherhood is new. I’m a single father.”

It sounds very weird to say those words out loud. Even weirder when jumbled up and disordered like that. He really needs to practice saying it in front of a mirror so that it sounds more natural next time and not like he’s a complete idiot.

“He just found out yesterday about the fatherhood part,” Chiddy chimes in, helping him out while sniffing one of the bottles of baby wash, and the woman relaxes slightly. Although the judgment doesn’t _completely_ fade away.

“I see. Well, you’re going to need to learn quickly then. What supplies have you bought so far?”

“We just placed an order for furniture and equipment and stuff, and we’ve picked out some books, but –“

“So everything, then,” She interrupts with a nod, “Follow me.”

The next thirty minutes are a whirlwind of lotions and washes and powders and pacifiers and bibs and pretty much every other thing Scott would and wouldn’t think to buy a baby. They end up needing to grab a second shopping cart, and by the time they’ve reached the food aisle it feels like the woman, who had eventually introduced herself as Sheila, has got them buying half the store.

"Chicken, carrots, and pasta,” Chiddy reads the label of one of the jars out loud, “That sounds _disgusting_. No food should be that color.”

Sheila shakes her head, taking the glass jar from Chiddy and putting it back on the shelf next to one full of a rather disturbing green substance, “It doesn’t matter because she’s too young to eat solid food right now anyway. You can start having her sample solid foods when she’s four months old by licking them, and she can start eating it anywhere from four to six months, depending on what your doctor says.” She looks at Scott sharply, and he makes a mental note to schedule an appointment with a pediatrician first thing when he gets home.

“Noted,” Chiddy replies. It isn’t sarcastic though, he genuinely has been typing up notes on his phone the entire time she’s been talking. A fact Scott is already grateful for, because his own brain feels like a dam ready to burst. It’s a _lot_ of information to take in all at once. “What about formula? How many ounces should we be giving her, on average, and is it normal for her to sleep through the night without eating or will she wake up a lot?”

Sheila launches into another in-depth answer, and even though he knows he needs to be paying attention, Scott finds his gaze drifting to the toy section of the store. Row and rows of stuffed animals and dolls and little cars line the shelves, but nothing that really screams _Hannah_ to him.

It’s at that moment that he spots it – right at the end of the top row. A sage green stuffed dragon with little wings and the tiniest pair of horns on top of its head. For some reason when he picks it up it brings tears to his eyes, and he has to blink back their sting lest Chiddy should spot them and mock him for crying over a stuffed animal in a baby store.

Chiddy is still distracted by Sheila, so Scott takes a second to lean over the cart and talk to Hannah. “Hey, baby girl, what do you think about this?” He gently places the dragon on top of her lap. It’s probably about half the size she is and it threatens to topple over, but she grabs onto it with her dimpled hands and her eyes light up as she smiles. “You like that one, huh?”

Her only answer is the drool that leaks from the corner of her mouth, but she hasn’t stopped looking at the toy, nor has her grip lessened even a fraction, so Scott takes that as confirmation that it’s a winner.

“Scott, Sheila says we have everything we need right now.” Chiddy tosses a couple more packages of organic baby wipes into the cart and jerks his head towards the check-out stand. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah, let’s head home.” He’s found everything he needed and more.

“So have you told your family the big news yet?” Chiddy stumbles in through the front door, dipping his arm and jerking to the side at the last second to prevent one of his bags from toppling over off of the pile he’d carefully stacked in his arms. In an attempt to avoid having to make multiple trips between the parking garage and their apartment on the top floor, they’d elected to carry everything inside in one load. It’s a mistake that’s definitely going to cost both of them sore backs tomorrow.

"No.” Scott sets the car seat where Hannah’s sleeping, hands clutched around her new dragon, down on the floor before unloading his own mountain of bags. Frankly, he should get double the kudos that Chiddy does for carrying his bags one-handed. “My parents will show up here exactly two hours after I tell them and I need to have everything put together before then. I don’t want to give them any reason to doubt that I’m committed or capable of doing this.”

“Scott, nobody who watches you with Hannah for more than ten seconds could ever say that,” Chiddy smiles encouragingly at him, and it’s a nice thing to hear, but Scott knows that’s not true. His parents won’t be very pleased if they think he’s slacking off or not taking fatherhood as seriously as he should be. He can't imagine what they'd say if they say the pillow nest on his bed or the dirty clothes he'd left on the floor by his hamper - unsure whether or not it was safe to wash Hannah's things with his own or if they required a special setting. 

"Thanks, but I still want to be prepared. Once everything’s more settled, then I’ll tell them.”

“Did you guys find everything you need?” Jeff walks out of the kitchen eating a banana, still wearing his Team Canada gear that he’d left the house in that morning, and starts rifling through the tops of some of the bags – laughing when he finds the one with all of the Canada clothing and shaking his head like he's not at all surprised.

“And then some,” Chiddy nods, “I think Scott must have single-handedly spent enough money to keep them in business for the next six months or more. How was choreography this morning? Are your skaters starting to do better?”

“Yeah, we had to tweak some things around a bit in a few programs because they weren’t getting the marks I think they deserve, but overall I’m pretty proud of them. I think we’ll see some podiums this season.” Jeff smiles fondly and finishes off his banana, tossing the peel into the nearby garbage bin. He’s really made a name for himself as a choreographer, especially for Stars on Ice, but Scott knows he’s proudest of the individual skaters that he works with. “Where do you want all this stuff?”

Scott wishes they could put everything in the guest bedroom right away, but he’ll need to dissemble all the furniture in there and figure out what to do with it first before he can start moving Hannah in, so after looking around for a second he says, “Let’s put it in the living room for now. I’ve got to take apart the guest room and get the new furniture built once it arrives before I can start putting most of this away and I don’t want to trip over the bags while I’m working.”

“Can’t risk the star of the Maple Leafs busting an ankle, now can we?” Jeff teases while picking up a couple of bags, and Scott pretends to glare at him. “When will you have time to do all that? Don’t you have to be at the arena by three? And Chiddy will be off to the TV station any minute.”

As if he’d forgotten, Chiddy looks up wide-eyed from the bag he was unloading and mutters a curse before scurrying off to his bedroom to get changed for work, and both Jeff and Scott laugh at him as he goes.

“Yeah…” Scott lifts his baseball cap and runs his hand through his hair, “Tess is gonna come over and babysit and I was kind of hoping you could help me with the heavy lifting stuff, if that’s okay?”

“Sure,” Jeff nods, but then his forehead wrinkles at he thinks over what Scott said, “Are you planning on her being your go-to babysitter? Because I have to say, I know Tess wants to help and would never complain, but that’s a bit of a drop down from lawyer.”

“No,” Scott laughs at the not-so-subtle rebuke he hears in his friend's voice. As if he would ever ask Tessa to give up her dreams to be a nanny. “It’s just temporary until I can figure out something permanent. I don’t really want to hire the first person I find online. Actually, the idea of hiring anyone from online makes me nervous.”

“Me too,” Jeff hums in agreement, “But what else is there? Your mom lives way too far away to be a viable option, as do both your brothers.”

“I know. I’ll figure it out before I have to head to Montreal this weekend for the game against the Habs. Unless one of you can watch Hannah or Tess can stay over for a couple days.”

“She’s welcome to stay any time she wants. In fact, Chiddy and I have been meaning to tell you that we’re kicking you out and letting her move in. She’s just… so much cleaner and quieter and nicer to look at.”

Scott shoves him in mock outrage, “Are you saying that she’s prettier than I am?”

“She’s prettier than everyone,” Jeff shoves him back and Scott laughs. He can’t exactly argue that point.

“Anybody home?” Tessa’s voice rings out from the entryway right on cue, as if their conversation had summoned her presence, and both Scott and Jeff smile at each other before shouting back that they’re in the kitchen.

“I come bearing gifts!” She announces proudly, holding up a couple of shopping bags with cutesy lettering on the front. “I decided to walk over here today because the weather is so nice and I happened to see this little boutique with a blouse in the window that I really wanted. So I popped in and low and behold they sold baby things, too. It was fate. Look what I bought Hannah!” She pulls out a heavy, navy blue hardback book called _Good Night Rebel Girls_ along with a pink onesie that has ‘empowered girls empower girls’ emblazoned on the front. “Aren’t these amazing?”

He _knew_ Tessa wouldn’t be able to resist buying books for Hannah. The fact that she limited herself to just one today is kind of impressive.

“Yeah, Virtch, I love them. Thank you.” He drops his arm over her shoulders and presses a quick peck to the side of her head, and Tessa preens at having made him happy. Although her face shifts from pleased to mischievous in a flash.

"To be honest, I’m just trying to bribe you into naming me godmother over Jeff.”

“Hey!” Jeff protests, “That’s not fair. I’d be an amazing godmother!”

“As if there could ever be any competition,” Scott rolls his eyes, squeezing his hand a little tighter around Tessa’s upper arm, “It’s you all the way. Definitely. I can’t think of a better person to set an example for Hannah. I mean, you’re basically the perfect woman, T. I hope she’s just like you when she grows up.”

“ _Hey!”_ Jeff protests again, swatting Scott’s thigh with a dish towel, but he just laughs as he ignores him in favor of grinning down at Tess, who looks touched and maybe a little embarrassed by his compliments.

“Aww, Scott, that’s really sweet. Thank you.”

Which is, of course, why he has to tease her.

"Except maybe a little better at hockey… and cooking… and more appreciative of country music.”

Her lips curl downwards into a frown and she jabs him sharply in the ribs, forcing him to drop his arm from her shoulders so that he can rub at the spot. “I like country music!”

“Taylor Swift doesn’t really count anymore.” He throws back with a smirk, jumping behind the island on the opposite side from where she’s standing before she gets the chance to poke him again.

The doorbell cuts off whatever Tessa’s retort was going to be, and Scott half-walks/half-jogs away to answer it and escape the thorough rebuttal he knows she’s already working on writing in her head. Arguing with Tessa over the merits of Taylor Swift is a fruitless endeavor - which is exactly why he can't help giving her a hard time about it whenever possible. 

A few portly men wearing polos with the Snuggle Bugz logo waste no time moving past him as soon as the door is open and carting in box after box of furniture – all of it requiring assembly.

"Do you guys put it all together too?” Scott asks hopefully as he watches the stack of boxes get higher. AKA the stack of work he’ll have waiting for him when he gets home from the game tonight.

“No, sir, that service has to be ordered when you schedule the delivery, and it doesn’t mention anywhere here that you ordered it or paid for it,” The delivery man explains, holding out his clipboard to show Scott, and he winces when he confirms the man is telling the truth. It was stupid of him not to ask Charity if they had a service like that when he had the chance. 

“Oh, I didn’t realize… well could I possibly pay for it right now?”

“No, sir, it has to be ordered. You could call the store and put in a request. I think our soonest availability for the assembly team is Friday at eleven.”

Well, that won’t work. He can’t keep Hannah boxed in by pillows for two more nights. “Friday? I can’t wait that long. Is there any option to put in a rush order?”

“No, I’m afraid not,” The delivery man holds out the clipboard again, this time with a pen, “Please sign here sir so that we can be on our way. We have a pretty strict delivery schedule.”

Scott sighs as he signs the paper and closes the door behind them. He has a lot to get done before he leaves, and he has to be at the arena early enough to give him time to talk to his coach and tell him what’s going on before the game starts. Babs deserves to know the change in Scott’s situation right away, both as a coach and as a friend.

It looks like another sleepless night is in his future.

“Hey,” Tessa walks out of the kitchen and joins him in the foyer, resting her hand on his forearm and rubbing soothing circles into his skin with her thumb. She must have heard what the delivery man said. “Let’s get started on taking apart the guest room, okay? I’ll help you with that while Hannah is sleeping, and then Jeff and I can work on assembling some of this stuff while you’re at the game tonight. That way you won’t have so much to do when you get home.”

“I can’t ask you guys to do that –“ Scott starts to shake his head, but Tessa surprises him by spinning around and marching towards the guest room.

“You’re not asking, we’re offering. Now come on, we have work to do.”

Tessa opens the bedroom door and stands in front of it, arching one perfect eyebrow at him in expectation, and Scott snorts out a laugh and follows her. She may be adorable and beautiful and the kindest person he knows, all traits not generally associated with lawyers, but when she wants something done _it gets done_. He has no doubt she’ll be a formidable opponent in the courtroom one day.

“Thanks, Virtch. I owe you guys pizza or something.”

She hums happily and starts stripping the bed, “I’ll never say no to pizza.”

****

The mood in the locker room after the game is subdued. All the guys are sweaty and exhausted as they quietly tear off their jerseys and get ready to head to their respective homes and collapse into bed. It had been a hard game as they fought just to stay even with the New Jersey Devils, and by the third quarter they’d been unable to hold them off any longer – leading to a six/three loss.

It’s always hard to lose, especially at home, but they’d given away a goal when they’d had a two-man advantage and that’s both embarrassing and frustrating as hell. Even his own goal doesn’t help Scott feel any better as he unties his laces and kicks his skates off. They should have been quicker on the puck, moved more cohesively, but they just didn’t have it tonight and he has a terrible sinking notion that it’s because of him and the distractions that kept creeping into his brain. It was hard to focus on the game when all he could think about was his new baby back home and the list of a million things he needs to get done. 

What he needs right _now_ though is a shower. Not a fast one in the locker room, but a nice, long luxurious one in his fancy shower back at his apartment. Where he can let the water pound away his sore muscles and the white noise drown out the sounds of the disappointed crowd in his ears.

“Nice game tonight, Scott,” Patrick Marleau clasps his shoulder as he sits down beside him, already showered and dressed to head out, “You did good.”

“Thanks.” The word comes out grumbled more than anything, and he can feel more than hear it when Patrick chuckles beside him - more than used to Scott’s moodiness after all these years. Nearly a decade, in fact, including joint stints at the Olympics in Vancouver and Sochi. Scott’s grateful to count him as a friend, even if his tone doesn’t currently reflect that.

“We win some, we lose some. You know how it is. Hey,” Patrick drops his voice, “I’ve been thinking about your situation, and I think I know how I can help.”

“My situation?” Scott balls up his socks as he sits up straighter and cocks his head at his friend, no idea what he’s talking about. Did he notice something about the way Scott was playing that needs fixing?

“I overheard you talking to Babs before the game. Congrats, by the way. Welcome to fatherhood.” Patrick grins and claps him on the back again, and Scott lets out a surprised laugh before smiling back at him.

Apparently the door to their coach’s office isn’t as thick as he’d thought it was.

“Thanks, man. It’s been a steep learning curve.”

“Oh yeah,” Patrick laughs and blows out a long gust of air, “And it’s a curve that’ll never stop. I heard you mention that you’re not sure about your childcare situation yet, and I wanted to let you know that my aunt Dorothy would probably be happy to nanny for you. She’s sixty-five, which I know is a little older than you might be looking for, but she’s the most energetic woman I know. Raised seven kids, loves babies, and an amazing cook.”

She sounds kind of like the perfect solution, actually, given that Scott really didn’t want to find a stranger to watch his daughter, but it seems too good to be true. Surely finding childcare can’t be this easy. “Why would she want to nanny for me? Sounds like she deserves a nice retirement from children.”

“She’s bored as hell, man,” Patrick laughs, “Most of her kids have moved out of Toronto and she isn’t really the type to go play Bingo down at the old folk’s home, you know what I mean? Plus I think she’d like to earn a little extra cash and I’m sure you’ll pay well, eh?” He winks and Scott chuckles. For his child to be looked after by a relative of someone he trusts who sounds incredibly qualified? He’d pay anything. 

“She sounds great, Pat. I’d much rather hire someone with experience than a teenager who only _thinks_ they know what they’re doing.”

“Awesome. I’ll give her your number and have her call you tomorrow.”

Well, that’s one item he can check off his list then, assuming the “interview” he has with Dorothy goes well tomorrow, and Scott’s shoulders feel a lot lighter now at having such a big item taken care of.

He starts stripping off his uniform and finds his phone buried in the bottom of his bag so that he can scroll through the messages that came in while he was on the ice, reading the ones from Jeff first.

The first three were sent in quick succession:

**Jeff:** I hate you for making me build this fucking crib

**Jeff:** You owe me, Moir!

**Jeff:** Crib from hell!

Scott has a 2015 Kathryn Hall Cabernet Sauvignon in his wine cupboard that he’s going to have to give Jeff as a thank you, especially if he actually managed to get the crib built – a thought that fills him with sorrow. He’d been looking forward to tasting that one himself on a special occasion at a future date. To see it given away as a bribe is a damn shame. 

There’s a forty-five minute gap between that text and the next, and when Scott reads it he laughs out loud and breathes a sigh of relief for his wine. 

**Jeff:** Tess may have pointed out that the instructions were backwards. All good now!

**Jeff:** Looks nice!

He's included a picture with the message and Scott congratulates himself on selecting the white model instead of any of the darker colors. It does look nice in the room sitting in the middle of the wall opposite the windows and it matches the color scheme that already existed. Although, he might have to buy a pink rug or something to add a splash of color. He'll ask Tess about that later. 

There are some texts from his brothers in their group chat, probably talking about the game, and he skips over their recap of his loss for now in favor of reading the ones from Tessa – expecting and unsurprised to find regular updates on the status of the furniture, Hannah’s feedings and tummy time and naps, interspersed with a few jokes. What he wasn’t expecting was the increasing drama and cliffhanger that she’d left him with at the end.

9:31 PM

**The Virtch:** SOS! I may have messed up.

9:42 PM

**The Virtch** : Correction. I did mess up. Big time.

9:50 PM

**The Virtch:** Not baby related.

9:51 PM

**The Virtch:** Well, it is, but don’t panic.

9:53 PM

**The Virtch:** Except maybe do panic?

9:59 PM

**The Virtch:** Hannah is fine.

10:07 PM

**The Virtch:** Your parents are here.

“Shit.”

Scott shoots up off the bench and shoves the rest of his stuff in his bag, slipping on his sneakers without bothering to tie up the laces. Something he knows his mother would chastise him for, but doesn’t have the time to worry about right now. He’s got to get home. _Fast_.

“Something wrong, Scott?” Matt looks up from where he’s lounging in front of his own cubby, covering the mouthpiece on his cell phone and frowning in concern. He’s probably in the middle of a conversation with his girlfriend Sydney, and Scott waves him off.

“It’s just a text I got from Tess.”

Instead of going back to his conversation though, Matt sits up straighter, concern written all over his face, “Is she okay?”

"Yeah. It’s family related. Nothing serious.”

Except it is serious. Deadly serious. Because if his parents are in Toronto then that means they showed up at his apartment unannounced – something they used to do quite often when he first started playing for the Leafs to check up on him and make sure he wasn’t getting into the typical trouble a twenty year old boy does - but haven’t felt the need to do in a long time. If they’ve driven all the way here without calling first, they must have a pretty good reason.

And he can only think of one thing that might be.

Scott drives the couple of blocks from the arena to his apartment building in record time, practically skidding into the parking garage and cramming his car somewhat crookedly into his stall before running to the elevators and jamming his thumb against the button for his floor. 

“Good! You’re here!” Tessa rushes up to him the second he’s opened the front door, already wearing her coat and shoes, and leans up on her tiptoes to give him a quick peck on his cheek, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Hannah’s down for the night in her new crib, and I’m leaving.”

“What?” He has no idea why she’s apologizing, but he can feel the panic starting to rise at the thought of her leaving him alone with his parents. He hadn’t anticipated that. But it’s obvious Tessa’s stressed out at having had to sit with his parents for the last hour, enduring God knows what kind of interrogation, and he can’t blame her for wanting to escape.

“Chiddy is going to drive me home. Good luck!”

Chiddy and Jeff emerge from the hallway on the left with car keys in hand, both of them looking almost as eager to get out of there as Tessa, “Yep! We’ll leave you guys alone to talk. Good luck, buddy.”

"Should have told them earlier," Chiddy mutters as he walks past, and Scott watches helplessly as all three of his friends abandon him. The door shutting behind them with an ominous click, leaving only silence in their wake. Silence that means he’s going to have to turn around and join his parents in the living room.

He briefly considers hiding out in the nursery with Hannah and just waiting until his parents hopefully give up and head back home, but he knows that’s not a viable option. He’ll have to eat or pee eventually, and his mom’s never given up on anything that easily. She'd sooner hunt him down than leave him alone. 

They’re waiting for him over by the couch, his dad sitting with his ankle crossed over the opposite knee, bouncing his leg rather vigorously, while his mom paces back and forth. It’s obvious that they’re both anxiously waiting for him and this isn’t going to be an easy conversation, and Scott takes a deep gulp before speaking up and alerting them to his presence.

“What are you doing here?”

His dad stands up and turns around to look at him, shoving his glasses back up the bridge of his nose as he does, “What are we – Scott, you have daughter!”

“I know.” He tosses his wallet and keys onto the kitchen counter and drops his heavy hockey bag on the floor. “I meant how did you find out.”

His mom looks like she’s going to cry as she explains, “Kate Virtue called me a few hours ago.” _Kate!? How did she become involved in all of this?_ “She said Tessa had to cancel on her for dinner to go babysit. Apparently Kate had been so surprised by the idea that she’d pried it out of Tessa who exactly she was babysitting _for_. Imagine her shock when Tessa confessed that it was for you.”

Scott sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes tight for a moment. _Shit_. He should have known Tess couldn’t keep a secret from her mom for very long. And of course the first thing Kate would want to do is verify the news with Alma. 

“I can explain.”

“I hope so,” His dad says gruffly, taking his wife’s hand and squeezing her fingers, “I hope you have an explanation for why we had to hear from Kate Virtue that our youngest son had become a father and hadn’t bothered to tell us about it.”

_Double shit_. When he says it like that, it makes it sound like Scott had been maliciously keeping the secret from them, which wasn’t his intention at all.

“I was going to call you this weekend before I brought Hannah out to meet you. I only found out she existed yesterday morning and it’s all been a bit insane since then. I needed time to adjust and figure out what I was going to do and buy supplies. I promise I wasn’t keeping it a secret or anything. I _was_ planning on telling you soon.”

It looks like his mom is incapable of speaking, her eyes still red and watery, and guilt washes over Scott. He was a massive idiot. He should have called them the second he found out about Hannah, or at least the second he decided he was going to keep her. They deserved to know. 

“How did this happen, son?” His dad asks, clearly guiding this interrogation for the both of them.

“The usual way,” Scott’s response is quick and snarky, the words leaving his mouth before he can stop himself, and he frowns and apologizes before continuing, “I met a girl – Whitney - last fall. Our relationship was… short. I didn’t know that she’d gotten pregnant or had the baby until she dropped Hannah off here yesterday. It took me completely by surprise.”

_That's the understatement of the century._

“Where is the mother now?”

“She’s moved away for graduate school.”

“Will she be back?”

“I doubt it. She signed over her rights and when I talked to her it seemed like her decision was pretty final. She was planning on giving Hannah up for adoption, which is pretty permanent.” Scott walks around the couch and opens up his arms, hoping his mom will forgive him and allow him to give her a hug (which might really be more for his benefit, than hers. He could really use a mom-hug right now). Relief courses through him when she comes to him quickly and doesn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around him.

“So,” Joe drops down onto the couch and leans back and throws his arm over the cushion, looking much more relaxed now that they’re openly talking and Scott’s being honest with his answers, “You’ve decided to keep her?” He says it more like a statement than a question, but Scott answers anyway. 

“Yes,” He nods, clutching his mom a little tighter before letting her go so that he can look at both of them when he says what he has to say next, “And before you try to tell me this is a bad idea, I have to tell you that I’ve already put a lot of thought into it. I’ve bought supplies, the nursery’s already half done – just a couple more things to assemble - and I’m meeting with a potential nanny tomorrow. I promise I’m taking this seriously and I really, really want to be Hannah’s dad. Nothing you can say is going to convince me to give her up.”

Except that’s not entirely true. He’s not sure what he’ll do if his parents tell him they think he’s incapable of being a father. They’re good parents, the best, in his opinion, so if they say he can’t do it they’re probably right.

He’s crossing his fingers that it doesn’t come to that.

“Scott,” His mom finally speaks, her voice thick with unshed tears, “We aren’t here to tell you no. We’re here to tell you that we love you and lend you support. I’m so, so proud of you for stepping up and I could not be more excited to have a new granddaughter. I just wish you would have told us yourself.”

A wave of emotion hits him unprepared and nearly knocks him off his feet. “Really? You don’t think I’m totally unprepared for this?”

“Nobody is prepared to become a parent,” His dad says with a little chuckle, taking his glasses off and cleaning them with the hem of his plaid shirt before replacing them, “And anyone who thinks they are is a naive idiot. What’s important is that you’re willing to try. We’re happy for you, son, even if you did go about things a bit… unconventionally.”

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you guys yesterday." 

"We'll forgive you, under the circumstances, as long as you promise it won't happen again," His dad speaks sharply, but his eyes are twinkling, and Scott gulps and nods. 

He's pretty sure he can confidently say this won't ever be happening again. 

“Can we meet her? We didn't feel right asking when it was just Tessa here,” His mom asks eagerly, and Scott shakes his head with a sad little smile.

“She’s already asleep and I don’t want to wake her up and mess up her schedule, but we can sneak in quietly and take a peek if you want.”

"Yes, please!”

Scott twists the handle and pushes the door open one inch at a time, making sure there isn’t a single squeak or creak that could accidentally wake up Hannah. It takes forever at his slow pace, but eventually there’s enough space for the three of them to slip inside and tiptoe over to her crib.

The way his parents crowd over the edge to see his daughter, looking at her like she’s the most precious gem in the world, puts a lump in Scott’s throat and he has to look away for a second to get his emotions under control.

“She holds her hand over her ear while she sleeps,” His mom points out, her voice just barely above a whisper, “Just like you did when you were a baby.”

“She’s beautiful, Scotty,” His dad adds, and Scott forgives the use of the old nickname just this once.

This feels like a significant moment, and he wishes he could stop everything – just for a little while – and really take the time to appreciate what it feels like to see his parents meeting his daughter for the first time. It’s not something he ever expected, at least not for a few more years, and definitely not like this, but it’s… perfect. Watching them instantly fall in love with her fills him with pride and makes him love them more.

After a few minutes of quiet oohing and ahhing they sneak back out of the room and Scott takes just as much time shutting the door as he did opening it before they reconvene in the living room – his parents already in the middle of having a discussion about whether or not they want to try to drive back to their home in Ilderton tonight.

“No way,” Scott interrupts them, already shaking his head as he walks in the room, “I’m not letting you make that drive tonight. It’s already close to midnight – it wouldn’t be safe.”

"We’ll have to find a hotel then,” His dad sighs. He hates spending money on hotels now after spending Scott’s teenage years following him around on the road for games and he’s definitely mentally grumbling that he has a perfectly good bed to sleep in back home.

“Of course not,” Scott resists the urge to roll his eyes at his dad's assumption, “I may not have a guest room anymore, obviously, but I’m not going to kick you out. You guys will take my room for the night and I’ll sleep on the couch. In the morning we can go out and get breakfast together. My treat.”

“Oh no, we couldn’t!”

“Ma, I insist. It’s a king size bed and I could never sleep if I put you both out on the street. What kind of son would that make me?”

"Well, if you insist." 

"I do." 

Arrangements decided, Scott bids them both goodnight before grabbing his pajamas and the spare sheets and a blanket from the hall cupboard. He arranges them somewhat haphazardly on the couch before taking a quick shower in the guest bathroom and getting ready for bed.

When he’s settled – as much as one can be with sore muscles lying on a sofa – he pulls out his phone and calls Tess.

“I am so sorry!” She answers on the first ring, “I didn’t mean to tell my mom, but she was so shocked that I said I was babysitting that she thought I was lying and making up an excuse to get out of dinner and I couldn’t convince her that it was true without saying who I was babysitting for and I don’t know anyone else in Toronto with kids and I couldn’t say Kevin or Casey because they don’t live in the city and –“

“Tess! Tess!” He practically has to shout to cut her off, and he laughs when she squeaks and goes as quiet as a church mouse. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s not fine! I spilled your secret, but not just any secret, like the biggest one you’ve ever had, and now you won’t be able to trust me anymore and what kind of godmother does that make me and –“

“Tessa Jane Virtue.” That shuts her up, and he laughs again at the meekness he can hear emanating from her through the phone. “I forgive you, and of course I still trust you. I talked to my parents and everything’s good. They’re happy for me, currently sleeping in my room, and we’re all going to breakfast tomorrow so that they can spend time with Hannah. It’s _good_. Stop freaking out.”

She exhales one long, powerful gust of air, “Oh good. I’m so glad. I mean, I thought they’d be supportive, but I couldn’t quite get a read on them earlier. They seemed so upset when they arrived, we didn't really talk much, but I guess this means I can send Chiddy and Jeff home now.”

“They were upset that I didn’t tell them sooner, but we worked it out. I -" He's cut off by her jaw-cracking yawn, the sound of it so loud it's as if she's sitting next to him on the couch, not talking to him through the phone from her place in Corktown, and he snorts. "You should go to bed. Kick the guys out and get some sleep.”

“I’m studying.” 

“ _Tess_.”

“This is important! My test is coming up soon. You don’t have to take care of me all the time. I am capable of being a fully-functioning adult all by myself, you know.”

He does know. She's far better at being an adult than he is most of the time. She's almost two years younger and yet her maturity level has always been miles above his own. But that doesn't stop him from feeling protective of her all the same. 

“I’m always gonna take care of you, kiddo,” He repeats the same words he used to promise her back when they were kids traveling back and forth to Kitchener-Waterloo to skate together, and he smiles when Tessa hums happily at the memory - her annoyance at his mollycoddling disappearing. 

“I guess it _is_ getting pretty late. I’ll do five more flash cards and go to bed. Happy?”

"Incredibly happy. Goodnight, T.”

“Goodnight.”

He plugs in his phone and shifts around on the couch for a bit until he finds a comfortable position that he thinks he'll be able to fall asleep in, double-checking the baby monitor first to make sure the green light is on and he can hear Hannah before smiling to himself as he closes his eyes and drifts off to sleep. 


	4. as you wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott continues adjusting to a new normal. Tessa freaks out and subsequently takes her LSAT exam.

** as you wish **

****

“It was his turn for show and tell that day and we told Timothy he could pick his favorite toy to take to school with him as long as he promised not to play with it during class. Now, Timothy was a good boy, but he’s always had a knack for finding trouble, and on the way to school that morning he saw a little green garter snake slithering in the neighbor’s weeds. A snake, as you know, is much more impressive than a Hot Wheels car or stuffed animal, so he picked it up and put it in his backpack and took it to class with him.”

“Uh oh. I bet his teacher loved that.” Scott laughs and shakes his head as he reaches out to tickle Hannah’s pudgy feet where she’s sitting on the counter in her Bumbo chair sucking happily on her rattle. She lets out a little noise that’s half gurgle/half laugh when he runs his fingernail up the middle of her foot and then her eyes go wide in surprise, making Scott laugh as well. She only laughed for the first time two days ago, the noise shocking her as much as it had him, and she still looks surprised every time the noise bursts out of her.

It’s adorable.

Scott’s still got a few minutes free before he has to be at the arena for his game against the LA Kings tonight, and he’s indulging himself by spending them focusing on Hannah and talking to Dorothy instead of running on the treadmill or reviewing his opponent’s past games to look for weaknesses like he used to do. Those routines feel like a lifetime ago, now, even though in reality it's only been a few short weeks. 

It had really been an amazing stroke of luck when Marleau suggested that Scott hire his aunt to be Hannah's nanny. Dorothy is basically a knock-off brand Martha Stewart, only without the stint in prison and unlikely friendship with Snoop Dogg, and she’s been a veritable godsend in the two weeks since Scott hired her. She adores Hannah, knows just about everything there is to know about raising children, and her molasses cookies are the most delicious things he’s ever tasted. 

“Well, she might have forgiven him if he’d remembered to zip his backpack back up, but he’d left it open and the snake slithered out and decided to investigate the classroom during reading time – somehow finding its way underneath the teachers desk and around her ankle. Oh the _screams_ ,” She laughs and slaps her thigh, “We could hear them all the way down the hall in the faculty room.”

“Did he get in trouble?” Scott asks, shaking the spit-covered rattle for Hannah and showing her how to get it to make a noise, even though she still lacks the dexterity to do much more than get her fist around it and let it flop around, “She must have been furious.”

“She wanted to give him detention for a month, but we managed to talk her down to just a day. He hadn’t meant to do it, after all, and he burst out crying when the janitor threw the snake out of the window. Poor thing.”

He’s not sure if she means her son or the snake, but Scott personally thinks the snake had the worse experience out of the two. “That’s lucky! If I or one of my brothers had done that we would have had to serve the whole detention sentence, although to be fair, we probably would have done it on purpose. Especially Charlie.”

Dorothy laughs and hands him the rolling pin to start spreading out the cookie dough, and Scott licks his lips as he gets to work. The smell of the casserole she’d put in the oven when she arrived is starting to waft across the room and it’s teasing his nose with the most delicious scents. She’d been right when she promised him that he’d appreciate her making it when he got home later after his game. He'll definitely be starving and he can hardly wait until then to dig in.

“Well, it all worked out in the end. Timothy’s a herpetologist now in Ottawa and all of his children have pet reptiles of their own. It makes visiting their house rather… interesting.” She squeezes her eyes shut tight at the memory and shudders, and Scott laughs. “They always want to show grandma their latest finds and I have to pretend to be excited. Although, between you and me, I find the little creatures repulsive.”

“I’m not too fond of snakes myself,” Scott admits, grabbing one of the cookie cutters and starting to cut out shapes in the thick, dark dough, “My brothers and I had to help out at my Grandpa Mac’s farm every summer and there were always snakes hiding somewhere, just waiting to surprise you when you least expected it. I hated them.”

“Well then for your sake I hope Hannah doesn’t take a liking to reptiles when she’s older. Although I feel like I should warn you that most kids seem to have a dinosaur phase at some point.”

“Dinosaurs I can handle,” Scott grins, popping some of the dough into his mouth before she can stop him, “They’re cool.”

He likes this. Easy, warm, comfortable time spent in the kitchen learning how to create something yummy and new while having a good conversation. The sound of the steady rain adding to the coziness inside the apartment. It's hard knowing that he'll have to leave it behind for the cold arena soon. Scott used to love away games – they were a chance to travel, spend time outside of Ontario, and meet new women – but now he’s starting to resent them a little bit. Sure, Hannah gets to stay with her grandparents in Ilderton when he’s gone and it’s nice for her to spend time with them, but he’d much rather be home doing stuff like this. It’s nice knowing he has a short stretch of home games this week to look forward to with Hannah and Dorothy before Halloween.

“At least the situation with the snake was an innocent accident. When my brother Charlie was fifteen he was seriously into Eminem – well, I think all us Ilderton boys were around that time, there wasn't much else to do – and he and his buddies decided to get their ears pierced. Which by itself wouldn’t have been so bad, except after Charlie got his done at the shop they figured they could save money if they just did it themselves.”

“Oh no,” Dorothy blanches as she carefully measures another teaspoon of cinnamon for her next batch of cookies, already anticipating where the story is going, “That doesn’t sound safe or hygienic.”

"Nope. All his friends had bright red, swollen ears within days. It was a disaster. And I would have been one of them if my mom hadn’t walked in on me with my head over the sink and Charlie holding the needle to my ear just in the nick of time.” Scott winces at the memory, the phantom of a pin prick ghosting against his earlobe. Charlie had managed to get the needle halfway in the first ear before Alma walked in on them, and although he’d yelled just as loudly as Charlie had in favor of his parents letting him pierce his ears, secretly he’d been grateful for the intervention. 

The front door slams open and shut while the two of them laugh, and Chiddy immediately makes his presence known by stomping into the kitchen, irritation radiating off him in palpable waves. He only pauses his barely contained rage-walk for a second when he smells the cookies before dropping down onto one of the barstools with a huff. Deep lines forming between his eyebrows and water dripping from his hair down his forehead.

“Uh, hey Chiddy, how was work?” Scott asks him warily as he starts laying out the dough on a tray to be baked, waiting for the explosion he’s sure is about to come, but instead of yelling Chiddy just glares harder at the question before taking Hannah’s hand and waving it around a little bit. She smiles at his attention, one of her best and brightest grins – something no man could hope to resist - and that seems to lift his spirits enough to get him to talk.

“They’re promoting one of the girls at the station. She was working on our radio team and they’re bringing her up to do TV instead.”

“Oh. Is it a promotion you were hoping for?” Scott’s confused. Chiddy hadn’t mentioned the fact that he was gunning for something new. He’s always seemed so happy with his job and the way his career has gone after he retired from figure skating. To hear him complaining is highly unusual, especially when the topic is someone else doing well for themselves. 

“No,” Chiddy grumbles through his teeth, “It’s not that. They’re promoting her to be my co-anchor. My partner! I've worked hard to become to the number one sports anchor in Ontario, and I feel like I do my job well, but the studio execs said we need something _fresh_. How am I not supposed to be offended by that?”

“That is frustrating, but maybe it won’t be so bad,” Scott suggests tentatively, trying to be encouraging while making sure to tread lightly. The last thing he wants is to say the wrong thing and make Chiddy feel worse. “I mean, they wouldn’t have promoted her if they didn’t think she’d be good at the job, right? And that the two of you would make a good team?”

“It’s not just that.” His nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath, tickling Hannah’s foot and getting another surprised giggle out of her before continuing, “It’s what she said to me after the announcement.”

“What did she say?”

“She said, ‘I look forward to working with you, Patrick, I think I can really help push your sports broadcasting to the next level.’” Chiddy scoffs and shoves a ball of cookie dough into his mouth, muttering a half-hearted apology when Dorothy scolds him with a wave of her mixing spoon. “It’s like she thinks she’s God’s gift to TV wrapped up in a cute little brunette package. Like I was only mediocre, but now that _she’s_ here everything will be better.”

Personally, Scott thinks it sounds like Chiddy is overreacting and misconstruing this woman’s comment (she did say she was looking forward to working with him), but Chiddy looks like he's not quite ready to hear that point of view just yet. “What’s her name?”

“Elizabeth Putnam,” Chiddy spits, and Dorothy gasps and claps her hands together.

“Oh! The girl from ‘Step Up Your Game with Liz’? I love her morning radio show – she’s so sweet and funny! She's the only person who can manage to get me to care about sports, something my husband's been trying and failing to do for thirty-seven years. I can’t wait to see how she does on TV.”

Chiddy does not look as impressed.

“Do you have any say in it?” Scott jumps in before Chiddy can snap at Dorothy. Not that Scott thinks he will – he’d be too afraid of her banning him from eating any of her cooking ever again – but it’s still better to avoid any snide comments that might result in the loss of the privilege of eating her food. Scott's _really_ looking forward to that casserole. “I mean, what if you told the execs that you don’t want to be her partner?”

“I could try, I guess, but that would make me look like a major asshole and I don’t want to prevent her from furthering her career. I mean… she is talented,” He adds begrudgingly with a nod towards Dorothy, “I just wish she wasn’t trying to steal my job.”

“Oh, hush,” Dorothy wags her finger at him, handing him a cookie from the first batch, fresh from the oven, and practically shoving it in his mouth to shut him up, “Don’t accuse the poor girl of devious intentions until you have proof of something. Maybe this will be the beginning of a beautiful partnership.”

“I seriously doubt that,” Chiddy disagrees loudly around a mouthful of gooey cookie, and Dorothy rolls her eyes at him – wagging her finger to show her obvious displeasure at his pessimistic outlook.

“You never know where life will take you, Patrick, so you always have to be open to new possibilities and treat everything that comes your way as an opportunity for something good.” She hands him another cookie and Patrick quirks the corner of his mouth up in a grateful smile as he accepts it. “Unless you find evidence that she really is trying to steal your job, in which case you have the right to fight back.” She winks and both Scott and Chiddy laugh at the unexpected advice.

“Alright, the last of the cookies are cut out and ready to go in the oven. I’m going to go put Hannah down for her nap before I leave.” Scott washes his hands and prepares a bottle, carefully measuring each ounce and making sure none of the white powder spills over the side, then scoops Hannah up out of her chair, pausing to grab her favorite textured orange and pink polka dotted blanket – a gift from Danny - from off the back of the couch as he goes.

Her nursery is all finished now, complete with a pale pink rug that Tessa helped him pick out just the day before, and Scott almost loves it more than he does his own bedroom. It feels so cozy and well-loved already and he likes how it’s turned his apartment from a bachelor’s pad into a _home_. But maybe that has more to do with the person occupying it than it does its design.

He pulls the black-out curtains shut in front of the large windows so that it’s dark enough for Hannah to fall asleep and then starts to feed her and sing some of the lullabies he remembers his mom singing to him. (Well, _mostly_ remembers. He's pretty sure he gets a word or two wrong every time, but what he can't remember he just replaces with his own made-up lyrics.) He’s not a particularly _good_ singer, but he can hold a tune, and Hannah doesn’t seem to mind if his voice is a little scratchy sometimes when he sings about Puff the Magic Dragon or buying her a mockingbird.

She stares up at him while she eats, the hand not tucked into his chest flopping about as she tries to find something to hold onto, and he sticks out his pinky from the side of the bottle so that she can clasp her fingers around it and hold one tight. It’s his favorite thing.

She’s a good little eater, another trait in the ever-expanding list his mom assures him comes from his side of the family (he thinks most of them are nonsense. How can you tell whose chin a baby inherited when they barely have a chin at all?), and it doesn’t take too long for her to finish three straight ounces – her eyelids drooping heavily as she struggles to stay awake long enough to eat the fourth one. Every time he tries to pull the bottle away though she jerks awake and starts sucking again, and Scott can’t help but bite his lips to keep from laughing at the determined way her face scrunches together when she loses her food source – even if she’s too sleepy to eat it properly.

When it’s finally all gone he props her up on his shoulder and gently pats her back while he bounces at the rhythm he’s found she likes best – not too fast and not too slow – and before he’s quite ready to say goodbye, she’s fallen asleep with one of her hands curled around the collar of his t-shirt.

He stays a little longer than he really should, the star-shaped clock on the wall telling him he should have been at the rink twenty minutes ago, holding her and swaying from side to side while relishing the moment. It’s hard to leave her, even when he knows she’s being well cared for, and he can’t help but wonder how the other dads on the teams managed to leave their babies every day when they were born. Although, they had the advantage of paternity leave while their kids were newborns, and Scott doesn’t, so really nobody can blame him for taking it a little hard and showing up late to practice.

Eventually though he manages to find the will to lay her down and tuck her in, sighing a little as he shuts the door and heads towards his room to grab his hockey gear. Maybe someday it will get easier, although he’s not sure if that thought is comforting or painful. 

****

The Bag Lady is unusually quiet for a Saturday morning. Normally Scott would expect the small restaurant to be full of people eager to fill their orders as quickly as possible before rushing off to one place or another, but instead of chaos the sound of a pleasant jazz CD can be heard above the hum of the two or three other customers’ conversations going on around the room and the clinking and clanging echoing behind the closed doors to the kitchen. It’s peaceful, calm, and soothing.

The exact opposite of the emotions being exuded by the woman sitting across from him.

"I’m going to throw up,” Tessa mutters, propping her elbows up on the edge of the table and dropping her head into the palms of her hands with a smack, “I’m going to pass out and die, and then I’m going to throw up.”

“You’re not going to die,” Scott chuckles at her dramatics as he reaches over to lift up the flap on the car seat perched on the chair next to him, making sure that Hannah is still sleeping happy and undisturbed inside, “And you’re not going to throw up, either.”

“Yes I am. I always used to throw up before a big competition, and this feels a million times scarier than that. Remember that event we competed at in Slovakia?”

“Yeah,” Scott winces at the memory. His shoes never quite recovered from that and had ended up at the bottom of a garbage bin in their hotel. “But you’re not going to throw up this time because I won’t allow it,” He states the last bit with as much emphasis and conviction that he can, and Tessa peers up at him between her fingers – a small smile twitching at the corner of her mouth where its peeking out between her palms.

“You won’t allow it, eh?”

She really does look a little green, her skin-tone beginning to mimic her eyes, but Scott’s not going to point that out to her. This morning is all about preparing her to take the LSAT and get the best scores anyone this side of Canada has ever seen. He has complete confidence that she can do it, he just needs to get her to believe it, too.

“Nope. I won’t allow it. I looked up online what the best breakfast is to eat before a test, and this place has everything on the list. Oatmeal, fresh fruit, Canadian bacon, eggs, fish. I’ve also packed you a big bottle of water and a bar of dark chocolate to nibble on while you’re taking your exam. You know how chocolate always perks you up.” He hands over the items and Tessa does seem a little happier at the sight of her favorite candy, reaching out and accepting it from him with both hands like it’s treasured gold.

"What would I do without you?” She finally picks up a menu, some of the color in her face returning as she looks it over and tries to decide what to order, and Scott grins.

“Starve,” He teases, “Starve and waste away, wallowing in the misery of a Scottless life.”

Tessa sticks her tongue out at him and kicks his shin under the table, and Scott laughs and reaches for his own menu – trying to decide what a guy who _isn’t_ taking a major test, but will be playing hockey later, should eat. Normally he’d order bacon, sausage, and eggs – really try to stock up on protein - and maybe some toast, but he has a feeling Tessa might want to sneak a bite or two of some pancakes after she finishes her own healthy, protein-packed breakfast, so he orders those, too.

“I don’t know how Jordan did this,” Tessa moans into her coffee, straight black like she prefers in times of high stress, (something about the bitter taste being the only thing that can distract her and remind her there are worse things than anxiety). “I feel like my brain has forgotten everything I’ve ever learned about anything.”

Scott’s hand finds hers across the table, winding their fingers together as best he can where they’re resting by the side of her plate, “Tess, do you remember when we were really little and I forgot the steps at our first competition?”

“Yes.”

“After that you memorized all of your own steps _and_ all of mine, just to make sure that didn’t happen again. Your memory is amazing and your brain hasn’t forgotten anything. You set goals and then you chase after them. You’re going to do great today.”

“Maybe if I just review my notes one more time.” Her hand tugs free of his and darts out towards her purse, but Scott’s is faster – grabbing the bag and tucking it behind his back on his chair before she has a chance to touch it. “Scott!”

"Nope. No more studying, Virtch. You’re just going to stress yourself out even more. Besides, you only have a few hours until the test – you’re either prepared or you aren’t, and I know you are. So right now we’re going to eat breakfast and talk about something _other_ than the law or exams or questions about logic and reasoning, okay?”

Tessa’s bottom lip juts out in an adorable pout, instantly making her look ten years younger and tugging at his heartstrings, but Scott doesn’t budge. He can be immune to her charms when he wants to be, if he tries really, _really_ hard, and right now he knows the best thing for her is to take a break.

"Okay,” She finally agrees when it becomes clear that her pout isn’t going to break him, “What should we talk about instead? I’m ready to be distracted.”

“What are you going to do this afternoon?" Scott asks quickly, launching into the first topic of conversation that comes to mind, "Did Jordan book that spa and massage appointment for you guys?”

“Yeah.” Tessa smiles and thanks their waitress before digging into her favorite poached eggs, the yolks spilling over onto the toast just how she likes it. “We’re going to the spa at the Four Seasons and I can’t wait. It’s supposed to be amazing and I’ve got these knots in my shoulders from looking over my desk that I can’t seem to get out.”

“Sounds like the perfect thing. I’m sure you’ll love it.” In fact, there's a spot in his lower back that could really use a massage, too. He'll have to ask for her masseuse's information later. 

Scott smothers his laugh when Tessa uses her fork to snag a couples pieces of his pancakes, pouring more syrup over them than he prefers before popping them into her mouth. He knew she wouldn’t be able to resist. Not that he can blame her. He’s normally a savory over sweet kind of guy, but they _are_ pretty good.

“Then I thought I’d swing by your place and pick up Hannah and bring her with me to your game tonight," She pauses, fork halfway to his plate again, "If that’s okay with you.” 

“What?”

“I just – you mentioned to Jeff the other night during dinner that it’s hard having to say goodbye to her all the time for work, and I thought it might be nice if she came along this time. But if you’d rather she stay home with Dorothy I totally understand. I mean, she is still pretty young and arenas can get loud and rambunctious.”

“I love that idea, T!" Scott interrupts her, practically buzzing in his seat at her suggestion, "Are you sure you don’t mind? If you’d rather go home and relax tonight I totally understand. Today’s a big day for you.”

She grins and finishes retrieving more of his pancakes, taking bigger slices this time and making sure to snag one of the strawberries on top, too. “No, I want to come tonight. I love your Halloween games. And I don’t mind bringing Hannah. I take my role as godmother very seriously, Scott,” She says with a mock frown, “How can I do that if I don’t spend quality time with her?”

It probably wouldn’t be okay for him to get emotional in a café over hearing how much she cares about spending time with his daughter, so Scott laughs instead and nods enthusiastically. “I’m okay with it if you are.”

“Absolutely! You can look for us in the stands – we’ll be the ones cheering loudest for a certain number fourteen.” Scott puffs out his chest a little and sits up straighter with a grin, already relishing the prospect, until she sighs dreamily and adds, “Sean Couturier. He’s got such a nice, full beard and great hair and –“

“Great hair!? He’s missing his front teeth, Tess!” Scott practically shouts as he realizes she’s talking about number fourteen on the Flyers, apologizing to their neighbors for his outburst while she cracks up laughing at her own joke.

“You should see the look on your face,” She snorts, “I can’t believe you thought I was serious.”

“You should know better than to tease a man about cheering for his opponents on game day,” Scott slouches backwards into his chair with an exaggerated exhale, running his hand self-consciously through his own hair, “Especially when his daughter is involved.”

“I’m sorry,” She says, although her apology is somewhat lessened by the fact that she’s still giggling at him, “You know you’re the only number fourteen that matters.”

“I better be the only hockey player that matters, period,” Scott grumbles, his frown only disappearing when Tessa leans over the table and affectionately works his disheveled hair back down into something more presentable, and he looks up to see her smiling at him even as she rolls her eyes.

“I promise that Hannah and I will only cheer for you. Does that make you feel better?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Good. Now are you going to finish those pancakes or can I?”

There’s a unique atmosphere in the Air Canada Centre tonight and it’s got everyone on the team grinning and joking and feeling lighter than usual. It’s costume night, the one night a year when all the fans in attendance are allowed to dress up however they want in celebration of Halloween, and everybody always goes crazy for it. Especially the kids, who really love to come for the candy the team always hands out after the game. It’s easily one of the players’ favorite games of the year.

They’re playing the Philadelphia Flyers tonight, a team whose record isn’t _quite_ as good as the Leaf’s so far this season, but who are formidable in their own right. Scott’s just grateful they aren’t playing in Philadelphia because their new mascot is fucking terrifying. Mascots in general are awful, but he just can’t understand what possessed the people in Pennsylvania to create the horrific orange mop with eyes they call Gritty and allow it out on the ice. It gives _him_ nightmares sometimes and he lives almost eight hundred kilometers away. He can’t imagine what it does to the kids in attendance down there.

The game starts off well. Feeding off of the enthusiasm in the stands, the Leafs manage to put a lot of pressure on the Flyers and keep them mostly in the defensive position, and when Scott finds an opening he bolts towards the goal – making sure that all of his opponents’ eyes are on him – before slapping the puck over to Kadri to score the first goal of the game. It’s a beautiful assist, one that their opponents didn’t see coming thanks to his distraction, and Scott cheers loudly as he skates over to Kadri to celebrate.

Which is, of course, when it all goes downhill. Their celebration isn’t allowed to last long before the Flyers make it even only two minutes later, and by the end of an exhausting first period they’re up two to one.

Not exactly the _treat_ they were hoping for tonight.

He’s got just over fifteen minutes of intermission time to rehydrate and recuperate before the battle resumes in the next period, and Scott makes use of the chance to look up in the stands. He sees clowns, superheroes, supervillains, movie characters, more than a few Harry Potters, and even a man dressed as Captain Canada ( _right on!)_ , but he’s not looking for any of them. His eyes rapidly scan up and down the rows and rows of outrageously dressed fans searching for a familiar face, and he breaks out in a wide grin when he spots her.

Tessa’s in the middle of the stands on the opposite side of the arena from the team bench wearing one of his old Leafs jerseys from when he was first drafted – the design standing out from those around her with its two stripes along the bottom instead of one thick one, and a blocky, simplified leaf on the chest that almost looks tacky next to the modern edition – waving at him with one arm while balancing Hannah in the other. Every year he tells her he’ll buy her a new jersey, and every year she turns him down.

He waves back so that she knows he can see her, and when he does she drops her arm so that she can hold Hannah up high like Simba in _The Lion King_ – showing off her brand new blue **Moir #14** infant jersey.

It’s so much better than just cheering his name.

"Are you crying, Moir?” Nylander shoves his shoulder with a laugh before squirting a long stream of Gatorade into his mouth while somehow still managing to smirk, "Don't give up yet. We still have two more periods to play."

Scott quickly swallows the lump in his throat and blinks back the tears that were indeed forming at the corner of his eyes.

It’s not his fault. He’d known Tess would be bringing Hannah to watch him play tonight, maybe even thought about her coming in a costume and wondered what it might be, but he’d had no idea that she was going to buy Hannah one of his jerseys to wear. Seeing it hit him harder in the chest than he’d expected.

"Fuck off, Will.” Scott shoves him back after a second or two too long, and Nylander just laughs and pretends to wipe his eyes like a baby, making Scott shove him again.

Whatever. He’s not ashamed. That’s his _kid_ up there watching him, her _dad,_ play hockey for the first time and this is a fucking special moment. He hopes Tessa is taking a million pictures because he plans on sending them to everyone in his extended family.

Second period brings a few frustrating almost-goals, including one of Scott’s that goes over the goalie’s shoulder and bounces off the crossbar, and the third period isn’t much better. By the time the buzzer goes off indicating the end of the game the Flyers have won it four to two, but while normally they’d all be pretty frustrated by the loss (and Scott keenly feels the disappointment of losing his first game in front of Hannah, even if she won't remember it), the team doesn’t have the time to dwell on it tonight. They have too much to do to prepare for the kids who will be trick or treating out on the ice in fifteen minutes.

A long strip of carpet is going to be laid down across the rink for the kids to walk across from one end to the other and the team will line up next to it and hand out the candy to each one as they go by – pausing for the parents to get plenty of photo opportunities. They all need to look their best and smile big for the camera and focus on making the kids happy, not wallow in defeat.

“Alright, guys,” Babcock shouts from his spot by the table in the corner of the locker room, going through the bags and bags of candy sitting on top of it, “Looks like a good haul this - who brought the box of Twinkies?” He holds up the box like he finds it personally offensive, and Marner pokes his head out from under a towel in the back of the room with a bashful smile.

“I did.”

“Goddammit, Mitch,” Gardiner laughs, slugging him in the shoulder, “We told you bags of fun size candy only this year.”

“What’s wrong with a little variety?”

“Did you bring two hundred boxes?” Babs raises his eyebrows expectantly, and Marner ducks his head, already giving away his answer.

“…No.”

“That’s what’s wrong. Supply and demand, Mitch. Take an economics course.”

"Hey!” Tessa catches his attention as she ducks around a couple of the guys, narrowly missing getting hit by an elbow in the face, and quickly scurries over to him. Technically she’s not supposed to be in the men’s locker room, but after ten years everyone’s gotten used to it. It’s hard to tell Tessa no. Scott even catches Babs purposely looking the other way out of the corner of his eye with a smile when he spots her. “I know you only have a second, but I wanted to tell you good job out there tonight. Hannah and I loved every minute.”

“Did she actually watch?” Scott tears off his gloves and takes his baby from her, just for a moment, holding her with his arms outstretched so that she doesn’t get covered in his post-game sweat and peppering her face with kisses. She looks tired and worn out, probably on the verge of pitching a fit unless she’s in bed soon, but she still manages to smile briefly at him all the same – sending his heart soaring. 

“Well… ‘watched’ might be a loose term for what she did, but I definitely think she found being surrounded by so many new sights and sounds really interesting,” Tessa says with a laugh, "I could hardly get her to stop moving. She wanted to see everything." 

“Is this your new kid, Moir?” Marner walks up to them, half a Twinkie shoved in his mouth, “She’s cute.” He tickles her ribs, earning a gurgled laugh, and that encourages the rest of the team to come over and say hi.

Soon Scott’s surrounded by his sweaty teammates crowding in around him and Tess to get a look at Hannah, congratulating him loudly and commenting on how cute she is, and while he appreciates the support, Hannah definitely does not. It’s a lot to handle all at once and her bottom lips starts to tremble right before she lets out a loud wail.

"I’ll take her home and get her in bed,” Tessa takes Hannah and tucks her in close to her chest, rubbing her back in soothing circles, “How long will you be?” 

“I shouldn’t be more than an hour,” Scott assures her, leaning in to press another quick kiss to the top of Hannah’s head.

“Take your time. There’s no rush and the kids love getting the chance to meet you.”

“Well, who can blame them?” He mimics straightening an invisible tie as he sticks his nose up in the air, pretending to be a pompous celebrity, and Tessa laughs. “Do you want to stay and watch a movie tonight? I know it’ll be late by the time I get home, but I’ve been in the mood to watch _The Princess Bride_ for weeks and every time I watch that without you you get mad at me.”

Tessa’s already nodding before he’s even finished his question. “That sounds perfect. Jordan’s out of town this weekend and if I go home I’ll just lay awake tossing and turning and obsessing over my test. We won't get the results for three weeks and I'm pretty sure I won't get any sleep until then.”

“That's not true. I'll hit you with a sedative when you least expect it. A blow dart from around a corner or something." He winks and Tessa laughs, although she sounds almost as tired as Hannah. Like the last six months of endless studying on top of work and keeping up a social life are finally catching up to her. 

"I'm not sure that's safe," She says, covering her mouth with the back of her hand as she yawns, and Scott rubs the crook of her neck a bit to help her feel better. 

"Eh, guess not. We'll think of something. See you later, then?" 

“I’ll have the popcorn ready.” 

Scott watches her go, dodging and ducking the way she came, before turning back to his teammates to finish preparing for the trick or treating - only to find a couple of them watching him with curious expressions. Expressions that make him groan internally because he knows exactly what’s coming.

“Don’t, guys, you already know the answer to what you’re thinking.”

“You don’t know what we’re thinking,” Marleau shakes his head, but he can’t hide the knowing smile on his face or the way he bumps Matt’s side with his elbow, “A beautiful woman who spends a lot of time with you, is close to all of your friends, and now is helping with your child…”

“I’m not dating Tessa!”

“Could have fooled me,” Polak grumbles in his thick accent as he accepts a bag of candy from Babs, each one carefully measured so that every player will have enough to hand out, and a few of the guys chuckle in agreement.

“I’m not. We’re –“

“Just best friends,” A few of the guys all chime in together at the same time, finishing the sentence for him, and Scott rolls his eyes at them. They know it’s true, they just like to give him a hard time every once in a while. 

“It’s great that you have such a good friend, Scott, especially right now. I think Tessa is a lovely girl,” Babs smiles kindly as he hands Scott his bag, and Scott smiles back with appreciation for his coach’s support. At least _he_ seems to understand the whole totally platonic thing. 

Normally Scott hardly notices the teasing comments and innuendos his friends make about him and Tessa, but sometimes it gets under his skin. He’s never told anybody, but part of the reason he dropped ice dance for hockey back when they were teenagers was because he was finding it hard to distinguish between acting and real life when it came to his feelings about Tess and burgeoning attraction to her.

Being unable to immediately shut off the passion he felt for her during a routine after it was over was starting to impact their relationship, even though objectively he knew Tessa’s friendship was worth so much more to him than a quick fuck. The knowledge that her friendship was priceless – something to be treasured – couldn’t keep the temptation at bay when her legs were wrapped around his waist and her lips were centimeters from his own and his blood was pounding in his ears – singing for him to pull her closer.

Finding out when he did about the very real chance he had to play for the NHL could not have come at a better time. 

He’d thrown himself into hockey, found himself a girlfriend, and shoved any and all non-platonic thoughts about Tessa out the window. And he can’t say that he regrets it. She’s practically his soulmate – he’d be miserable if he’d lost their friendship over something as stupid as sex.

He just wishes his teammates could understand that.

“Buttercup was raised on a small farm in the country of Florin. Her favorite pastimes were riding her horse and tormenting the farm boy that worked there. His name was Westley, but she never called him that.”

“Isn’t that a wonderful beginning?” Scott quotes right on cue with the grandpa as Buttercup rides across the green fields to the farmhouse, and Tessa nudges him in the thigh with her toes and shoots him a glare. 

“Shhh!”

Her rebuke comes fast and stern, and Scott smiles as he reaches for the big red bowl resting on the couch between them, grabbing a handful of popcorn and tossing a few pieces into his mouth. God forbid anyone distract Tess from the opening scenes of her favorite movie.

She’s watching it with single-minded focus, her mug of steaming hot chocolate (with seventeen mini-marshmallows, of course) resting half-forgotten on her knees as Buttercup issues commands and Westley smirks at her and murmurs, “As you wish.”

“Do you think they purposely timed that kiss so that the sunset would be right behind them like that?” Scott risks interrupting again to tease her, and he catches Tessa’s foot as soon as it darts out to poke him again – capturing it in his hand and refusing to let go. “I mean, it does create a nice silhouette. You have to give them props for that, I guess.”

“It’s _romantic_ ,” Tessa says gruffly, trying and failing to tug her foot free and causing some strands of hair to fall loose out of the messy bun on top of her head in the process – a ridiculous squeak bursting out of the back of her throat when he runs his fingernail up the side of her ankle where he knows she’s ticklish.

“It’s unrealistic,” Scott shoots back, taking pity on her by turning his tickles into a massage. When it seems he’s no longer going to torture her, she relaxes further into the couch cushions and rests both of her feet on his lap, granting him better access and wiggling her toes to encourage him to continue.

“Says the guy who’s seen every romantic comedy ever created.”

“I said it was unrealistic, I didn’t say I didn’t enjoy it.”

“It’s not supposed to be realistic, it’s –“ She groans loudly as he digs his thumbs into the ball of her foot, her eyelids fluttering shut for a moment and her mouth dropping open before she comes back to herself. He really hopes she didn't react _quite_ like that at the spa earlier. “It’s supposed to be idealistic. A fairy tale. That’s why the song at the end says, ‘Our love is like a storybook story.’”

“Is that what you’re looking for, Virtch?” He digs into the spot again and she practically melts into the couch, “A fairy tale?”

“The only romance I have room for in my life right now is with my LSAT test scores. I’m hoping if I put out they’ll come back with top marks.” Scott snorts and Tessa grins, looking proud of herself for landing the joke successfully. Which might happen more often if she didn't always wait to see how her jokes are received before feeling confident about making them. 

“Oh hey guess what. I heard a good joke the other day.”

“No!” Tessa groans, already plugging her ear with the hand not holding her mug and shaking her head back and forth from side to side, “Please don’t.”

“What do you call a priest that becomes a lawyer?” He wiggles his eyebrows at her, pausing for dramatic effect – something he doesn’t think Tessa is fully appreciating based on the way she’s glaring at him. “A father-in-law!” He slaps his knees to make a baddum-tsh sound before giving her finger guns and grinning, “Eh?”

Tessa presses her lips together, curling them over her teeth, and Scott can tell she’s trying hard not to laugh. She generally hates lawyer jokes, given that both her parents and her sister work in the field, and she’s heard pretty much all of them over her twenty-eight years of life. Which is why Scott considers it his personal duty to tell her any that he thinks she might not have heard to see if he can still get her to laugh at one or two of them.

“Almost,” She finally says after breathing in and out through her nose a few times, “You almost got me to crack.”

“Damn. Next time, eh?”

Tessa shakes her head and wiggles her toes again, wordlessly encouraging him to continue his massage, “You’re incorrigible.”

“One of these days I’m going to find the perfect lawyer joke. The Holy Grail of lawyer jokes, if you will, and it’ll make you laugh so hard you’ll cry.” Scott grabs her other foot and gets to work, smirking to himself when she has the same visceral reaction as she did a minute ago. 

“That sounds impressive. When you also find the lost city of Atlantis, give me a call, because both have the same chance of happening.”

“As you wish,” Scott answers with a grin, tickling her foot, and this time Tessa does manage to tug it free and jab him in the ribs.

He moves his hands up her legs to start massaging her calves and shins, taking special care there because he knows that she can get extra sore in her lower legs sometimes, especially after wearing heels, and they both go back to watching the movie. 

“We don’t talk about the Cliffs of Insanity often enough.”

“I’m sorry?” She looks over at him with a quirked eyebrow and a mouthful of popcorn, and Scott gestures towards the screen. 

“I mean, Fezzik climbs up the cliffs carrying three people with his _bare hands_! Do you know how much upper body strength that would require? He's not even hanging - his arms are bent! And there’s no way his hands wouldn’t be red and bleeding by the time he reached the top. That rope has to be so course and full of those little splinter shard things that ropes have.”

“It is impressive," Tessa agrees, pausing to sip her hot chocolate, her tongue darting out to capture a half-melted marshmallow, "But I think that’s kind of the point.”

“The _point_ is that everyone thinks the Dread Pirate Roberts is this legendary man to be feared, but Fezzik is the one everybody should be impressed by.”

“In this essay I will…” Tessa murmurs under her breath, letting her voice trail off, and Scott frowns and cocks his head.

“What?”

“Nothing,” She giggles, dismissing him with a wave of her hand and bringing her mug up to her lips to hide her smile, “It’s cute how much you care.”

“Virtch, when you were eleven you wrote a forty thousand page story about Buttercup becoming the Dread Pirate Roberts instead and Westley needing saving from an evil princess. Don’t try to tell me you haven’t thought about this movie just as much as I have.”

“Okay, I guess that’s fair. I still think William Goldman would have loved my idea, by the way.”

“I’m sure he would have.”

“Well as long as we're mentioning complaints about realism," She points to where Buttercup is sitting blindfolded next to Vizzini, "I never understand why women in movies leave their hair down. I mean, don’t get me wrong, Buttercup has gorgeous hair, but it would be so inconvenient! A normal woman would have done it up in a braid or something by now to get it out of their way.”

“Maybe she doesn’t know how to braid.” It doesn't seem that outrageous. Every time Scott sees a girl with a complicated braid he pretty much accepts that she has access to magic in one form or another. Not everybody can have that gift. 

“Everybody knows how to braid," Tessa says, dismissing his silent assumption in a single sentence, "It’s so easy.”

“I don’t. It’s not like it's a skill I've ever needed.”

“Well, you’d better learn. Eventually Hannah’s hair is going to grow out and then you’ll need to be able to style it for her. Unless you want to be untangling a rats nest at the end of every day.”

“That’s…" Scott's hands stop moving against her legs as he sits up a little straighter, "You have a point. I hadn’t even thought about what it would mean to have a girl as she got older. Oh my god,” He blanches, “I’m going to have to have the _talk_ with her – like, about menstruation and _stuff_.”

Tessa takes one look at the horror on his face and bursts into giggles, laughing so hard she has to wipe the corners of her eyes.

It’s nice to know she’s sympathetic.

“There, there.” Eventually she sits up and leans over to pat his knee. “It’ll be okay, Scott. You have plenty of time to prepare before she’ll need that conversation.”

Maybe so, but he has significantly less time to prepare for other things like hairstyling. Hannah already has a full head of blonde hair and she’s only four months old – time is running out before it will start falling into her eyes. “Can you help me?”

“Learn about menstruation?" Tessa scrunches up her nose in displeasure, pulling her legs awkwardly away from him, "Uh… sure, I guess. Where do you want me to start?”

“No,” He grimaces, holding up his hand to stop her and shaking his head, “Ugh. No. I meant hair. Can you teach me how to do hair?”

“Oh. Yeah, okay.” She pauses for a second, looking around at their situation, before nodding to herself and getting up off the couch. “I think it’ll be best if I sit on the ground in front of you. I can show you the basics of braiding and then you can practice while we watch the movie.”

“Great idea! Thank you.”

“What are friends for?” Tessa chuckles, plopping down cross-legged between his feet and tilting her head up a little so that he can get a good look at what she’s doing.

She tugs the elastic free and her dark hair tumbles down from the messy bun it was in (something else he’ll need to remind her to teach him) and she runs her fingers through it for a minute to get any tangles out before getting to work. Her hands moving quickly as she weaves three strands over and under each other with practiced ease.

“Hang on,” He places a hand over hers and stops her, “You’ve gotta go way slower. Start from the beginning.”

“A basic braid is simple. Just remember you need three strands of hair, generally all the same size, and then each strand goes over the middle one, alternating right and left. Like so.” She moves her hands much more slowly this time, and Scott watches closely to make sure he’s committing the technique to memory. “Okay, now you try.”

Tessa drops the hair she was holding so that he can't cheat and start where she left off, and Scott tentatively gathers up some of the soft hair in a poor imitation of what he'd seen her do - the braid already falling apart before he's even really begun. 

"It's okay to pull it tighter," Tessa leans back into his knees more to encourage him, "It won't hurt me and it needs to be snug so that it doesn't fall apart halfway into the day." 

Scott nods and then hums out loud when he realizes that she can no longer see his movements from her new position. He tries to pull the strands of hair tighter as he continues criss-crossing them over each other, but they're still falling apart. How the _fuck_ did she do this? 

"Harder, Scott." 

"That's what she said," The words leave his mouth reflexively and with his hands buried in her hair he's helpless to fight back when Tessa pinches his leg in retaliation. 

"Shut up. You know that's not what I meant." 

"Hey, guys!" Jeff waltzes into the living room, looking like the cat that got the canary and smelling like Dior Sauvage. An instant giveaway as to his whereabouts for most of the evening. He drops down onto the floor in front of Tessa and immediately leans back into her lap. "Is this a massage chain? Count me in." 

"I'm teaching Scott how to braid," Tessa explains. She pushes him away at first, but then reaches up and starts massaging his shoulders when he refuses to budge - going limp and boneless in her lap until she gives in and gives him what he wants.

"Awww. That's sweet, but you're too late, Tess. You should have taught him earlier this year before he cut his hair." 

Tessa bursts out laughing, jostling Scott's hands and ruining the somewhat improved braid he'd been working on, "Hang on. Now I'm imagining Scott with a French braid. It's too ridiculous." 

"Hey! I could make it work!" Scott shouts back, offended, and Tessa and Jeff give each other a significant look.

"Please don't challenge him, Tess," Jeff groans, "You know he'll get all competitive and try it." 

"I won't. Even if part of me is super curious what it would look like." 

"I'm right here, guys," Scott mutters, trying to tamper down the competitive streak that had burst to life inside his chest, just like Jeff predicted. He needs new friends who don't know him so well and won't tease him about his inability to turn down a challenge. 

"We're very sorry." Tessa reaches over her shoulder and pats his knee, and Scott can hear the mocking pout in her voice. "We'll watch the movie in peace." 

"I'm sorry, were we talking about something?" Jeff jokes, arching his shoulder where Tessa's digging her fingers in, "I already forgot." 

The movie passes without further mishaps, although Scott misses most of it while he tries braid after braid after braid. By the time Westley, Buttercup, Inigo, and Fezzik are all riding off into the sunset on their beautiful white horses he actually feels like he's getting the hang of it. The finished product isn't anywhere close to what Tessa could accomplish, but it isn't half bad, either. 

That is, until Tessa yawns so big she has to throw her head back and it all comes tumbling loose. 

"I should head home," She murmurs, nudging Jeff's head off her lap and slipping a throw pillow underneath him instead so that he can keep sleeping while she struggles to stand up, "I'm so -" She yawns again, "So tired." 

Yeah right. Like he's going to let her drive home like this. 

“It’s nearly two in the morning. Just stay here.”

“Are you sure? You don't have a guest room anymore.” Her eyes blink lazily as she yawns two more times in quick succession, and if he had any doubt about his offer (which he didn't) that would have made his mind up for him. 

“Don’t be stubborn, Virtch. I’ll grab you something to wear and you can share my bed. You’ve done it before – you know there’s plenty of room.” It isn’t uncommon for her to stay over on Blue Jays game nights when they’ve all been drinking and the guys are passed out on the couch, and Scott heads into his bedroom and directly into the walk-in-closet to grab the ratty Queen t-shirt and checkered boxers he keeps there for her. Clothes that used to be his, but have long since been claimed by Tess.

“You’re the best," Tessa takes the clothes from him with a grateful smile, "I wasn’t looking forward to going home to an empty apartment. I get a little freaked out when Jordan’s not there.”

“I know you do,” He says softly, gently nudging her off the door frame where she'd slumped sideways, “You know where the toothpaste is in the guest bathroom?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Scott.”

"No problem." 

Scott gets ready for bed himself while she's gone, putting on proper pajama pants and a white t-shirt instead of opting to wear what he normally would (aka: just his underwear). They’re comfortable with each other, but not _that_ comfortable.

When he’s done he checks in on Hannah, making sure she’s okay and still happily dreaming, before crawling in between the sheets with a yawn that could double for the MGM lion. Whatever Tessa has must be infectious. 

She joins him soon after, padding across the room and slipping into bed much more gracefully than he did. “Goodnight, Scott!” She whispers cheerfully, if somewhat slurred, fluffing up the pillows exactly how she likes them before laying down on her side facing the windows, and Scott smiles at her back in the dark - sleep already threatening to overtake him.

“’Night, Virtch.”

They may have lost the game against the Flyers, but given everything else that's happened tonight, Scott still falls asleep with a smile on his face. 


	5. life's no fun without a good scare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween!

** life's no fun without a good scare **

****

The evening air is crisp as it blows over the Ilderton fields, the night sky lit up in shades of deep blue and purple as the fading light dips beneath the horizon, leaving just a glowing strip of yellow in the distance while stars slowly start to appear to take its place. There’s a bite to the breeze that hints at an incoming snowstorm, and Scott hopes that the weather will hold long enough for the kids to do their trick or treating and him to get back to Toronto safely. Not to mention the fact that he’s supposed to fly out to Anaheim tomorrow with the rest of the team. A blizzard would make that pretty difficult.

He tugs the zipper on his coat up to his chin, even though the walk to the front door of his parent’s house is fairly short, before opening up the passenger door of his SUV to retrieve Hannah. Chiddy's SUV, that is, which he really hopes his friend doesn’t notice is missing before he can return it.

In his defense, it’s not like he _stole_ the car – he just borrowed it for a little while. Which is perfectly understandable given the fact that he hasn’t had time yet to get a new car of his own. (It’s at the top of his list, he swears!) in the meantime, what else is he supposed to do? Strap Hannah to the top of his sports car and hope for the best?

Besides, last he saw Chiddy he was camped out in front of the TV watching a back-to-back _Halloween_ movie marathon. Given that, god knows why, there are eleven of those movies, Scott’s pretty confident that there’s no way he’s planning on leaving the apartment tonight. Especially not with the shadow of Michael Myers haunting him at every turn.

Swinging the diaper bag over his shoulder, Scott gets Hannah – with more than a modicum of success (he’s getting better at the buckles) – and heads up the lantern-lit walkway towards his parents’ front door, waving hello at the torso and arms of the zombie his mom puts in the flower garden every year as he passes by. He had found the thing terrifying when he was little – plagued by all the scary stories Charlie would make up about it coming alive while Scott was sleeping - until Danny announced that it was named Petunia and put their Aunt Carol’s floppy floral gardening hat on its head. Suddenly it wasn’t so frightening anymore. Now it’s nothing more than a comforting piece of their holiday traditions.

There are mini pumpkins lining the front porch and imitation cobwebs hanging from the rain gutters and a scarecrow that’s seen better days sitting on the wicker rocking chair by the front door, and suddenly Scott feels ten years old again – tiny and dressed up like a Ninja Turtle (Michelangelo, of course) – getting ready to head out on the town with his buddies with the single goal of acquiring as much candy as they possibly can before curfew.

Only he’s not ten years old, he’s thirty and coming home with his new baby to introduce another generation of Moirs to their family traditions and somehow that feels even weirder than it would if he suddenly regressed into that turtle with the orange mask again.

Almost one month into fatherhood and it still hits him like a puck to the face sometimes.

“Scott!” The door swings open to reveal his middle brother dressed like Shawn of the Dead, complete with cricket bat and nametag, holding a beer and grinning at him, “Are you going to come in or lurk on the front porch all night? We saw you pull up like five minutes ago.”

"Just noticing all the decorations. The place looks great.” Scott steps over the threshold and shuffles past Charlie, nearly eating a mouthful of plastic glow-in-the-dark spiders that are dangling above the entryway by accident. “Mom really went all out this year.” He comments as he brushes the plastic toys out of his mouth with a grimace, and Charlie laughs.

“You know how seriously she takes her reputation. You should see the rink. No expenses were spared for the Halloween show this year – it was amazing. The kids did a big group number to Casper the Friendly Ghost in full costume.”

“I’m sorry I missed it!”

Alma and Carol grew up in a family that took holiday spirit _very_ seriously and it’s a dedication they both carried over into their marriages and actively worked to impart on their children. One year, when Scott first moved to Toronto, he’d forgotten to put up a tree for Christmas in the chaos of traveling back and forth between games and getting used to a new city (and trying to make a long-distance relationship work at the time), and when his mom had found out she’d promptly gone to the store and bought him _three_.

Fresh, not fake.

It took him weeks to clean up all the needles that fell onto his floor.

“Quinn was Casper, right?” Scott asks, readjusting his hold on Hannah. She keeps getting unbalanced as she tries to look at everything, so he takes pity on her and turns her around to face Charlie and the rest of the room.

“Of course she was,” Charlie grins proudly, propping the cricket bat on his shoulder and taking another large sip of his beer, “Friendliest little ghost you ever saw. And the fastest around the ice, too.”

“Uncle Scott! Uncle Scott!”

The shouting is his only warning before Scott finds his legs ensnared in the tight hugs of three of his favorite kids in the world, nearly knocking him over flat on his ass. Kids can be surprisingly strong individually, but three all at once is a force to be reckoned with. The youngest of them grins up at him and squeezes tighter before promptly biting his thigh, and Charlie pulls him away so that Scott doesn’t go careening towards the floor as he yells and rubs at the sore spot.

“Sorry,” Charlie frowns, “He’s been biting a lot lately. We’re trying to get him to stop, but he seems to think he’s a dinosaur and that makes it okay.”

“RAWR!” Cruz snarls right on cue, holding out his arms and curling his fingers in like claws, and Scott laughs. Turns out Dorothy was right when she said all kids seem to go through that phase.

“That’s okay, I’ve had worse. Hey, guys!” Scott chuckles as he greets the two older kids still hovering around his feet, while wincing and rubbing the injury. Who knew a toddler could have such sharp teeth? “How are you?”

"I’m Thor!” Shea yells, mishearing Scott’s question, proudly flexing his muscles and showing off his plastic Mjolnir. The hammer is bigger than his head and the handle extends down to his waist, but he looks so earnest and proud of himself that Scott grins and nods seriously – playing along.

“Wow, that’s so cool! The lord of thunder himself here to help fight against bad guys and defend Asgard! Can I hold your hammer?”

Shea shakes his head solemnly from side to side, looking as remorseful as a kid can be, “No, Uncle Scott, only someone who’s worthy can lift this hammer.”

"And I’m not worthy?” Scott stands up straight and throws his hand over his chest, pretending to be affronted. He must have committed a grievous sin in the eyes of his nephew to earn such a stern reprimand.

“No. Daddy said you knocked around a girl and got into a mess, and boys who hurt girls and make messes don’t get to hold Thor’s hammer.”

Charlie makes a choking sound and covers his mouth with the back of his hand, studiously avoiding meeting Scott’s accusing glare as he looks down at his son instead and corrects him, “I said he knocked _up_ some girl, and you weren’t supposed to be listening to that conversation. That was private between Daddy and Mommy.”

“Wow. Nice to know what you really say about me.” Scott punches his brother on the shoulder, too hard to be mistaken for a joke, but not so hard to actually do any damage. The kind of punch he and his brothers have perfected over the years, as brothers do. “And in front of the kids, too.”

“I thought it was private between me and Nicole, I can’t help it if the kids eavesdrop,” Charlie defends himself, holding up the arm not holding Cruz in defense, “And can you honestly say what I said was _wrong_?”

“No, but you could have said it more nicely.”

Charlie rolls his eyes in reply, and Scott raises his hand to slug him again when he feels a tug at the hem of his shirt and looks down to see his niece looking up at him impatiently. Clearly waiting for him to comment on her Halloween costume.

"And who are you, Quinn?”

She tilts her head, the brown afro wig she’s wearing bobbing precariously, and arches her eyebrow like Scott’s an idiot. “I’m Bob Ross the painter, _duh_. Do you want to see my new Spider-Man art kit?”

Scott presses his lips together to keep from laughing, nodding silently instead until he can manage to respond without a laugh. Honestly, it should have been obvious. She even has a brown beard painted onto her face. “I sure do!”

She takes the arm not holding Hannah and drags him towards the kitchen, her brothers and father following close behind. “Daddy said I can’t get a real oil painting kit like Bob Ross until I’m twelve, but I’m saving up my allowance so I can buy a canvas and some paints myself. I want to start practicing landscapes.”

“Wow,” Scott whistles, impressed at the sketches she shows him in her flipbook shaped like Spider-Man’s head. They’re really not bad at all for a kid, she might actually be onto something. “I didn’t know you wanted to be an artist. That’s awesome.”

She nods seriously, reaching up to readjust her wig before it can fall off her head and onto the tile floor, “Mommy took me to an exhibit in Toronto last month. She said if I practice a lot I can paint like Van Gogh. Have you seen his swirly night painting?”

“You mean Starry Night? I’ve seen pictures of it, but never in person.”

Quinn smiles wistfully as she pulls a worn and battered brochure for the Toronto Fine Art Museum out of her pocket with the famous painting on the cover, the creases and soft edges of the paper showing signs that she’s been carrying it around with her for a while, “I love that one. It’s my favorite. When I get my own canvas and stuff, that’s the first thing I’m going to try, even though I know it won’t be as good.”

Scott lays his hand gently on her shoulder and gives her a soft squeeze, “I think that’s great, Quinn, and it won’t just be good, it will be _better_ because you made it yourself. I can’t wait to see it.”

“I’ll paint something for Hannah after that. What does she like?”

“Uh… eating,” Scott jokes, earning a highly exasperated sigh from his niece who doesn’t appreciate not getting an immediate answer, “She has a stuffed dragon that she loves.” He replies, much more seriously, and she nods with satisfaction.

"I’ll paint her a princess and a dragon, then. Will you put it on her wall?”

“Of course!”

“Hi, Scott.” His mom walks over to greet him from where she’d been slaving over the kitchen counter, wiping her hands off on her tattered green apron. She leans up on her tiptoes and gives him a quick peck on the cheek, smearing leftover flour on his jacket that she brushes away with a laugh. “I hope you’re hungry for pie, because we grew enough pumpkins this year to feed a small army. I’m practically giving them away to everyone who passes by the house.”

“Of course, Ma,” Scott pats his stomach, pushing it out as much as he can to give himself some semblance of a belly, “I plan on eating at least three all by myself. Your pumpkin pies are legendary.”

“The secret’s in your grandpa’s recipe,” She replies with a wink, gesturing to the notecard on the counter that’s almost completely faded now after so many years of use. There’s a line in the middle that was blacked out with a Sharpie a long time ago, before he was born, and Scott points at it with an air of accusation.

“Which you refuse to tell me!” He’s been trying to recreate his grandfather’s recipe every autumn for the past five years now, and while he’s starting to get pretty damn good at making pumpkin pies, none of them can quite seem to measure up. It’s incredibly frustrating!

“You can’t just be told the secret,” His mom wags her finger at him and gets back to work mixing more of the pie innards, “You have to _earn_ it.”

“I still don’t know what that means.”

"Never mind that now. Did you and Hannah wear costumes? The kids will be disappointed if you didn’t.”

“Of course we did.” Scott hands Hannah to Charlie before taking off his coat and hanging it up on the back of the kitchen chair, revealing his Clark Kent costume - a white button-down shirt and loose hanging tie over a t-shirt with the Superman logo on it – and retrieves his fake glasses from the coat pocket and puts them on before taking off Hannah’s coat to reveal her Supergirl costume. He takes her back from Charlie and holds her high over his head, “Ta-da! What do you think?”

“Oh aren’t you two adorable? Wait, I have to take a picture.”

“Aw, Ma –“

“Hold still, it’ll only take a second.” She digs around in the junk drawer until she finds her phone (why she keeps it there, he has no idea), smearing more flour and dough on the back of it as she holds it up and snaps a couple of photos.

“My son the superhero!” His dad comes inside through the double doors that lead to the backyard, toeing off his boots and setting them neatly by the side of the door under Alma’s watchful eye before coming over to steal Hannah from Scott’s arms. “And my granddaughter the Girl of Steel! Can you fly, little hero?” He lifts her high up in the air over his head and Hannah laughs in delight, reaching out towards him with her pudgy hands.

“Careful!” The word slips past his lips without conscious thought, and Scott blushes as his dad looks over at him with a deadpan expression.

“Son, I’ve been doing this since before you were born. Sit down and let the grandpa do his work.”

“Sorry. It just slipped out. I trust you, Dad.” Of course he does, he’s just not used to seeing someone else lift Hannah up so high and it’s a little unnerving. He finds himself hovering close by just in case anything goes wrong, even though he’s never seen his dad drop anything in his life.

The doorbell rings, followed by distant shouts of “trick-or-treat” as Charlie opens the door, and the next thing Scott knows he’s being tugged in the direction of the living room and engulfed by two grown men in a giant, overwhelming bear hug.

“Scott!”

“Long time, no see, buddy!”

“Hey, guys!” He manages to work his way out of the cheap cologne soaked dogpile, his glasses askew and his hair sticking out in every direction, “It has been a while. How are things?”

Mike and Josh, his two best friends growing up and the source of most of the trouble he got into as a kid, grin back at him as they relax. Their kids taking the opportunity to run past their legs as they scamper off to join Charlie’s kids in front of the TV and show off the candy they’ve collected so far.

“Oh, same old, same old,” Mike says, clapping him on the back with a smile, “Steph’s pregnant again. Baby number four, if you can believe it.” He shrugs it off like it’s nothing, but Scott can tell by the way his mouth twitches and his eyes light up that he’s excited, and he pulls his friend in for a congratulatory hug.

“Really, man? That’s great! Congratulations!”

“Yeah. A boy this time, finally. Being the only guy in the house with four girls has been tough!” He laughs and Scott joins in. He can imagine. Mike’s wife Steph is a force to be reckoned with any day and their girls definitely take after her. Not that that’s a bad thing – they’re probably going to take over the world someday. “She’s home resting so I’ve got them tonight. Thought we’d meet up with Josh since he has Aidan this week and go trick-or-treating together.”

“We hoped you’d be in town,” Josh adds, fiddling with his now empty ring finger – an old habit that hasn’t had the chance yet to fade away.

Ilderton’s a small town and word of the divorce had spread almost the second Josh and his wife had filed the paperwork – reaching Scott in Toronto from other sources before he’d had a chance to talk to his friend about it in person. As much as he loves his life there, it’s things like this that make him wish he could be home more often.

“I’m glad you guys came over. It’s good to see you both. It feels like a lot of things have changed lately,” He pauses, frowning at his friend in a way that he hopes comes off as commiseration, not pity, “I was sorry to hear about you and Amy, Josh.”

“Shit happens,” His easy shrug belies the tension in his shoulders and the lines that have formed at the corners of his eyes and mouth, and Scott shares a look with Mike who quickly changes the subject. Clearly the wound is still sore.

"Speaking of crazy shit, your brother mentioned you have a kid! Congratulations!” Mike slugs him on the shoulder and Scott laughs, rubbing the spot and nodding. 

“Thanks, man. Yeah, it is pretty crazy, but I’m getting used to it.”

Josh grins mischievously, his whole demeanor changing at the opportunity to give Scott a hard time, and Scott barely has half-a-second to brace himself before Josh says, “Just couldn’t resist all that pussy that comes with being a celebrity, could you, eh? What happened? Did you forget how condoms work?”

“They go on your dick so shit like this doesn’t happen,” Mike adds, both he and Josh chuckling, and Scott rolls his eyes and shoves both of them.

“Like you guys can talk. You have kids, too.”

“Kids we had on purpose,” Josh clarifies with a snort, “That’s a little different. Was she hot at least? A good lay?”

Scott shoves his hands in his pockets and shakes his head, “I’m not going to dignify that question with a response.”

“So that’s a yes.” Josh nods and makes a vulgar hand gesture that earns a laugh from Mike who makes a different one in response, and Scott can feel his ears turning red. Which is embarrassing and ridiculous since these are the guys he told first when he lost his virginity, who heard about every conquest after that and shared each of their own. It’s hardly the worst thing they’ve ever said or alluded to when hanging out with each other, but it feels inappropriate somehow when the woman in question is the mother of his child, even if Scott doesn’t really know her that well.

"Either yes or he can’t remember,” Mike teases, “Scott’s got quite a reputation in Toronto, didn’t you know? He’s come a long way since hitting puberty at twenty-one.”

“I still remember when his voice dropped on his twenty-fourth birthday.” Josh pretends to wipe a tear from his eye, his voice wistful, and Scott glares at him.

“Fuck off.”

“Not that you’d know it based on how you screamed yesterday,” Mike continues with a laugh, ignoring Scott’s command, “That was really impressive. I didn’t know a grown man could make a sound that high-pitched without getting kicked in the balls first.”

Scott groans and drops his face into the palm of his hand, shaking his head back and forth. He has a horrible sinking feeling that he knows exactly what his friend is referring to, and it’s a moment he’d really rather not relive. He’s been trying to forget the stupid prank his coach pulled (with little success) over the last forty-eight hours.

The thing is, normally Scott doesn’t mind Carlton the bear. Sure, he still hates mascots, but he’s grown used to the friendly big white bear in the Leafs jersey after all these years and, frankly, as far as mascots go he isn’t the worst one Scott’s ever seen. But that doesn’t mean he appreciated the prank Babs had pulled on all the players yesterday morning after practice – getting someone to hide inside an inflatable version of their mascot and stand in the hallway next to a sign offering free photos, just waiting to jump and growl at each of the unsuspecting hockey players as they passed by.

It doesn’t help that they’d filmed the whole thing and posted the video on YouTube not long after where it had racked up over eighty thousand views in a matter of hours. Mostly because of Scott’s ( _manly!_ ) squeal at the end of it.

He’s never going to live it down. 

“How did it go? Something like –“ Josh makes a high-pitched screech and Scott slaps his hand over his mouth with a glare, cutting the sound off mid-shout before it can catch the attention of everyone else in the house. It’s a miracle Charlie didn’t mention the video when he arrived, and Scott would rather not give him the opportunity to do so now. He’s probably already coming up with a million ways to make fun of Scott about it – probably getting Danny in on it, too. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t sound anything like that.”

He did. He definitely did. But he’s got some dignity to maintain, for Pete’s sake, and he intends to maintain it however he can, even if that means lying about his response to being scared by an inflatable mammal.

“Come on, man,” Mike rolls his eyes at Scott’s weak defense, “I think everybody in Ontario has seen that video by now. They were talking about it at the Daisy Mart this afternoon. You were the highlight!”

Scott groans. He should have figured his hometown would be talking about it. Especially since he actually _had_ ended up on Chiddy’s sports highlights segment last night. (Another reason Scott doesn’t feel guilty about stealing his friend’s SUV.)

“Hey, if we can find a big bear somewhere can we get a reenactment?” Josh pulls out his phone and starts typing away with flying thumbs, “I bet I could find something close to it online. Party City probably has something similar.”

Mike looks over his shoulder and nods at whatever he finds there, pointing at something on Josh’s screen, “Yeah, I’d like to see that in person. Looks like those fast feet aren’t only useful on the ice. I bet Scott could beat the sprint world record if he had the right motivation.”

“That’s true. I’ve never seen anybody run away from a mascot quite so quickly before. Maybe he’s been playing the wrong sport this whole time.”

“He jumped out at me!” Scott practically yells, finally snapping, throwing his arms out wide and nearly knocking a plastic coffin off the buffet table, “It was eleven thirty in the morning and I’d been up since five. I wasn’t thinking straight and he came out of nowhere. Anybody would have reacted like that! I mean, Marner screamed and ran away, too!”

“Marner didn’t scream, he shouted,” Mike replies, “There’s a difference.” 

“Are we talking about the Carlton Bear scare?” Tessa asks, taking all three of them by surprise as she comes around the corner while working on the buttons of her grey coat, and Scott throws his arm around her for a quick side-hug and a peck on the cheek by way of greeting that she returns with a smile. “Wasn’t that hilarious? I thought Scott’s fear had faded with age, but –“

“Nope,” Josh grins, “Our boy is still terrified of mascots.”

“I know!” Tessa laughs, hugging both Mike and Josh in turn, “I didn’t believe it for a few years, but he really, really is. Poor guy.”

“Yeah, when someone has a phobia that’s usually what I do – just tend not to believe them for a while, see if that helps,” Scott mutters sarcastically under his breath, frowning and folding his arms over his chest like a petulant child, “Really learning a lot about you, T. I can’t believe you watched that video after I asked you not to.”

“How could I resist?” She pouts at him, lips twitching with barely contained laughter, “Everyone at work was talking about it. They know we’re friends so they kept bringing it up. How can I defend you properly if I don’t know what I’m defending? That would make me a bad lawyer, Scott.”

“Great. That’s just great,” Scott groans, dropping his head to her shoulder with a thunk, hoping to at least earn a little sympathy from her, and Tessa takes pity on him by patting his head and murmuring, “there, there,” before she shrugs him off with a laugh so that she can finish taking off her coat.

Which is when Scott’s, and every other red-blooded man in a twenty mile radius, jaw drops to the floor.

She’s wearing a tight, off-the-shoulder long-sleeved black shirt and skin-tight black leggings and thigh-high leather stiletto boots. Combined with her dark eye make-up and thick, curly ponytail, she’s like a walking dominatrix right out of one of his kinkiest dreams. All she needs is a switch or whip and she could model for any sex shop.

It’s unnerving how quickly all his blood rushes south while looking at his best friend, but in his defense, she’s wearing a fucking _leather corset_ , so he figures he gets a pass this time for needing to adjust his pants before he can continue using his brain for anything besides drooling.

“Wow, Tess,” Josh whistles low in appreciation, and Tessa blushes a furious shade of red, “What are you supposed to be? Besides the woman of my dreams, of course.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” She does a little twirl, her ponytail swinging around and almost whipping Scott in the face, and kicks up one of her boots with a funny little foot pop, “I’m Catwoman.”

“Where are your ears?” Mike asks, twirling his fingers in a wide circle around his head to demonstrate the vital missing piece of her costume.

“Oh! I forgot, hang on!” She turns around to dig inside her purse where she’d set it down on the buffet table, and Scott absolutely does not let himself ogle her ass while she does. “Voila!”

Tessa spins back around with her arms held out wide to show off her fluffy black cat ears headband, and Scott chokes out a laugh to hide the other reaction threatening to burst out of him.

“You don’t look like Catwoman in any movie I’ve seen.” And thank god for that. He’s not sure how he’d handle it if she’d come over wearing the skintight one-piece from the Dark Knight Rises and a mask. Would that be worse, or better than the corset? He can’t decide.

“I know it’s not perfect,” Tessa sighs like she’s disappointed in herself for the inaccurate reproduction, “But I needed a costume for my work party this afternoon and this was the only thing I could throw together using things I already had in my closet.”

“You wore that to work!?” Scott asks, horrifying images of the pompous, stick-up-their-asses lawyers in their three-piece designer suits that she works with checking her out all afternoon filling his head – probably thinking all sorts of inappropriate thoughts about her, just as Josh says, “You already had a corset in your closet!?”

Which is an equally valid response because Scott would not have guessed that either.

“I had an ex-boyfriend who was into –“ She stops herself, cheeks turning pink, and Scott’s not sure if he wants to hear the end of that sentence or not. “Anyway, yes. I had one in my closet. They’re surprisingly comfortable.”

“Damn, girl,” Josh whistles low again, taking Tessa’s hand and encouraging her to spin around one more time, showing off those long dancer’s legs of hers that are accentuated so perfectly in this costume, “I mean, you’ve always been gorgeous, but _damn_.”

"Oh come on, I'm not that hot." 

“I say this in an entirely platonic, friendly, I’m a happily-married-man kind of way,” Mike begins, nodding solemnly, “Josh is right. You’ve come a long way from that party we crashed in high school when you dressed up like the witch from Harry Potter.”

“Scott was a superhero that night, too,” Josh laughs, “Apparently some of us change and others…” His voice trails off as he gestures towards Scott’s costume, and Scott tears his eyes away from Tessa to stand up a little straighter and defend himself.

“Hey –“

“Scott’s changed. He’s not _always_ a comic book character,” Tessa jumps in, placing a hand on his arm, “Last year he was George of the Jungle. He still had a tan from his trip to Bermuda so the look actually kind of… well, it worked for him.”

“Kind of?” Scott asks, betrayed, and Tessa smiles apologetically and pats his shoulder. He’d been under the impression that costume was a rousing success. Actually, given how many numbers he went home with that night written all over his body, he’d call it an _arousing_ success.

(In his defense, there hadn’t exactly been anywhere to store a piece of paper. His skin seemed like the only viable option, even if he was scrubbing numbers off random places for a week afterwards.)

“It was hot,” She agrees with a shrug, “But… a loincloth is still a loincloth, Scott. It’s not the best look on anybody. Although the longer hair you had last fall really helped sell it.”

He knows she only added the last bit to make him feel better, but he happens to also know that Tessa loved the longer hair so there’s at least some truth to what she’s saying, which appeases him for now. Besides, whether or not loincloths have any positive attributes is irrelevant given that it had served its purpose of showing off his toned pecs and abs. Not to mention his other _ass_ ets.

“Dad?” Mike’s youngest comes up to them, weaving between their legs until she can find her dad and tug on his pants, “Can we keep trick-or-treating now?”

“Sure, pumpkin. Go get your sisters and Aidan and we’ll head out.”

She scampers off to retrieve the others and soon they're all at the front door putting on coats and saying goodbye.

“It was nice to see you Scott, Tess,” Mike says as he hugs them both.

“Yeah, you should visit more,” Josh agrees, giving Tessa another appraising look, before shaking his head as if he’d just remember Scott was there, too, “Oh, and you too, Scott, I guess.”

“Nice,” Scott swats him on the back of the head, and Josh laughs it off while winking at Tessa. “You guys should come to Toronto. I’ll get you Leafs tickets anytime you want them, just name the day.”

“Definitely.”

“See you later!”

They both follow their kids out the door, Josh turning around briefly to mouth, “Call me!” at Tessa, and Scott waves goodbye as they head down the sidewalk before closing the front door and turning to face the woman by his side, his eyes scanning up and down her costume again now that they’re alone before arching a single eyebrow. “Which ex-boyfriend wanted you to wear this? Please don’t say Simon.”

"I’m not telling you. You’re just going to make fun of me.” Tessa spins around on her heels and walks back down the hallway, leaving Scott no choice but to follow after her. He didn’t think he wanted the details behind her outfit, but it’s going to drive him crazy if she doesn’t tell him. If he doesn’t learn the truth he’ll end up lying awake all night imagining all the different scenarios that could lead to Tessa purchasing those types of clothes, and sleep deprivation isn’t good for his performance on the ice. 

“I won’t,” He swears, walking after her into the living room and sitting down on the old, mottled brown couch beside her. _The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad_ is playing on the TV and Brom sings his spooky Headless Horseman song while Scott’s nephews and niece watch with rapt attention from their spots in a loose circle on the floor, a mountain of candy spilled out between them. If she thinks the movie or the young audience will save her from this conversation, she’s wrong.

Tessa looks down at the kids, then back at the TV before dropping her voice to a whisper and saying, “Yes, you are.”

“Was it Simon?” Scott whispers back, poking her in the thigh so that she can’t ignore him, and Tessa folds her arms over her chest with a huff and continues to refuse to look his way.

“Holy fuck, it was. That scrawny nerdy kid from your psych class –“

“He wasn’t scrawny!” She shoots back rather loudly, and Quinn pauses drawing a picture of Ichabod on his misshapen grey horse and looks up at her with a curious glance before turning back to the TV.

“He was way shorter than me and could hardly lift his own backpack,” Scott says with a quiet snort. Out of all of Tessa’s boyfriends, Simon had been his favorite – if only because he was so obviously not a threat to their friendship. He couldn’t measure up to Scott in any way – not in making Tessa laugh, not in athletic skill, and certainly not physically. He’d barely been taller than Tessa on a good day and not much more built, either.

“That’s not true!” She whisper-shouts, earning a much more pointed look from Quinn that serves to adequately chastise her, forcing her to drop her voice back down until Scott can barely hear her. “Besides, there are other important qualities. He was surprisingly limber.”

_Gross._

“I just can’t picture him being all into BDSM,” Scott drops his voice to barely audible on the last bit so the kids can’t hear him, mouthing the letters more than actually saying them while gesturing to her outfit, “And I can’t picture you being a dom.” She is way too nice to ever dominate someone properly. She can’t even stand it if he pretends to be mean and someone thinks he’s serious – always has to rush over to them and make sure they understand he’s joking – there’s no way Tessa Virtue ever dressed up in black skintight leather and bossed someone around, let alone spanked them or anything more. If she did she probably apologized after every single slap.

“I could be a dom if I wanted to!” She mutters back, folding her arms even tighter and sinking further into the couch, and Scott has to resist the urge to laugh outright at her. Yeah, squishing into the couch cushions and pouting really helps sell her argument.

“Oh yeah? Try right now. Command me to do something.”

“I –“ Tessa blushes crimson and drops her gaze and Scott swallows as he realizes what he accidentally just implied. He hadn’t meant it like _that_. “It wasn’t a BDSM thing.” She says instead, and Scott’s instantly grateful for the deflection.

“Then what was it?”

“It really was a Catwoman thing,” She finally admits, “He was really into Batman roleplay.”

“Oh,” Scott laughs, feeling on odd sort of relief wash over him, “Now that makes way more sense.”

Tessa sticks her tongue out at him, proving that no amount of leather and make-up can change who she really is at heart, and Scott smirks as he reaches out and tickles her armpit – his usual spot on the ribs hidden from him by the leather.

“Mistletoe can be deadly if you eat it,” He quotes as she laughs and squirms and tries to get away from his attack, and Tessa finally manages to get him to stop his torture when she stops resisting and grabs his hand and interlocks their fingers in an ironclad grip instead – a move he doesn’t try very hard to resist.

“But a kiss can be even deadlier if you mean it,” She quotes back, even going so far as to mimic Michelle Pfeiffer’s sultry voice, and she laughs again when he holds his free hand up for a high-five. The slap reverberating around the room and earning another shushing from his niece.

“Scott,” His mom pokes her head around the corner, this time with pumpkin smudged high on her cheekbone, “I’m out of pie tines. Can you run over to the Christensen’s and see if Joanne has any to spare?”

“Sure, Ma.” He hops up from the couch and wipes the orange goo off of her cheek before retrieving his coat and heading back out into the cold night.

There are gaggles of children everywhere he looks. Their laughter echoing up and down the street as they go from door to door with their increasingly heavy bags of candy and making the night feel warm despite the weather. Halloween, for all it’s meant to be scary, really is a sweet holiday. Pun intended.

He jogs up the steps of the familiar beige house across the street and rings the doorbell, jumping when a pair of LED eyes light up on the front window and stare at him in flickering shades of red, orange, and black. They must be activated by motion sensors because they turn off after a second, and Scott starts jumping around to try and test what gets them to burst to life and what doesn’t.

Just as he lands on one foot in a wonky sort of hop, his other leg up in the air, the front door opens to reveal a petite woman with bright maroon hair wearing a pair of overalls and smirking at him.

“Wow,” She shakes her head, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling, “Scott Moir as I live and breathe. This is an unexpected treat.”

Scott drops his foot and straightens himself, tugging at his jacket to make sure it’s sitting properly, “Angela? I haven’t seen you in –“

“Six years. Not since Josh’s World Series party.” Her eyes flicker down to his waist and back up, and Scott smirks at the memory. The Cardinals hadn't been the only ones to hit a home run that night, that’s for sure.

"That’s right. Um… I’m actually here to see if your mom has any pie tins that my mom can borrow. She’s up to her ears in pumpkin filling with nowhere left to put it.”

“She’s not here right now – she’s out with my brother and his kids trick or treating – but come on in and we’ll see what we can find,” She shuts the door behind him as he enters the house, the smell of oranges still pervasive, just like when they were younger, “I think we might get lucky in the kitchen.”

She winks as she walks off towards the back of the house, and Scott has a feeling he knows exactly where this is headed.

Halloween as an adult is so much more fun. 

Twenty minutes and a rather satisfying orgasm later, Scott waltzes back into his parent’s house with four more pie tins in hand and whistling a jaunty tune, feeling like he just got the best holiday treat of all. It’s been almost a month since he last had sex, the longest dry spell he’s had in _years_ , and holy shit had he missed it.

His happiness is cut short though only a few steps inside the entryway when he hears crying. _Hurt_ crying.

_Hannah_.

The pie tins clatter to the floor and Scott takes off running towards the kitchen as fast as he can – skidding around the corner and nearly slamming into his mom in his haste to get to his daughter. He barely has time to mutter half an apology before he zeroes in on his little girl. 

His dad is holding her while big fat tears stream down her face as she cries, and Scott wastes no time marching over there and scooping her out of his father’s arms – tucking her in close to his chest and bouncing to try and help her calm down. “What the hell happened?”

“The kids got into a candy throwing fight and one of the pieces hit her by accident,” His dad explains with a frown, reaching out and wiping away one of Hannah’s tears with his thumb, “It bounced off her forehead – frightened her more than anything.”

"She has a mark!” Scott points to the red spot forming above her left eye. It’s terrifying to see it there – a bright neon sign marking her injury. Glowing as if to say _I got hurt, I got hurt, I got hurt!_

His mom walks over and places her hand on his back, rubbing circles between his shoulders as she says, “She’ll be alright, Scott, it’s just a little sore.”

He knows she’s trying to soothe his fears and be reassuring, but Scott shrugs her off with a frown. How can she act like the injury is nothing? It might _bruise_ for fuck’s sake! “It’s not alright! I’m gone for five seconds and she gets hurt!”

“Scott, she’s fine,” She continues, stroking some of Hannah’s hair away from her forehead with a small smile, “Look, she’s stopped crying now that you’re here. She just wanted her daddy.”

But just because she’s stopped crying doesn’t mean everything is fine, and Scott turns to his father with an accusatory glare. He should have seen this coming earlier when his dad was tossing Hannah around with no more care than a sack of flour. “How could you let this happen!?”

“Scott!“ His name is sharp and blunt coming from his mother’s voice, a sure sign that a severe reprimand is incoming, but for once Scott doesn’t fear it. _They_ were the ones in the wrong this time. They messed up, not him.

“Hey,” Tessa walks quietly across the kitchen and places her hand on his arm, interrupting whatever Alma had been about to say and distracting him from the white-hot rage he feels building inside his chest at his parents, “Come with me.”

“Tess –“ He begins to protest, trying to shrug her hand away with little success. She seems determined to get him out of the kitchen, but doesn’t she understand the severity of what’s happened here? He can’t just leave without making sure his parents know how serious this is and apologize to both him and Hannah.

“Come on.” She grabs the tie around his neck, ignoring his protests, and practically forces him to go with her out of the kitchen, through the living room, and into his parent’s office – far away from everyone else.

The room is small and stuffed full of mismatched furniture, the walls covered with too many picture frames all crammed together haphazardly. It’s practically a 3D scrapbook of their family history, but the pictures of him and his brothers that dot the wall fail to bring the smile to his face that they usually do. He’s still fuming about the fact this his dad let his daughter get hurt.

Tessa shuts the door with a soft click and gestures for him to sit down on the loveseat against the side wall, and Scott drops down onto the lumpy cushions as gently as he can – making sure not to jostle Hannah who’s still curled into him, her head tucked under his chin.

“Are you okay?” She asks, sitting down beside him and brushing her knuckles across Hannah’s back, her bottom lip jutting out in a small frown as she observes Hannah’s injury, before giving his knee a squeeze and looking at him in concern.

“Am _I_ okay? Hannah’s the one who got hurt!”

“I know,” Tessa nods slowly, rubbing circles into his thigh now and still watching him with those observant green eyes, “But I’ve never heard you yell at your parents like that before.”

That brings him up short. He hadn’t raised his voice – or, at least, he hadn’t _meant_ to. “I didn’t yell.”

"Yes, you did. It was an accident and she’s going to be alright. She’s not even crying anymore. But you were reacting like she’d broken a bone or been seriously maimed.” Scott opens his mouth to protest, but Tessa continues before he has the chance, “I’m not saying you weren’t justified in your concern, but little injuries are going to happen sometimes, no matter how careful the person watching her is. Kids get bumps and bruises – you should know that better than anyone. I’ve never known you not to have a bruise somewhere on your body, even now.” She chuckles and prods his side where he actually does happen to have a bruise from yesterday’s practice, but Scott can’t find it in himself to laugh along with her.

“I know, but he’s my dad. He’s supposed to take care of her.”

That’s what dad’s do. They take care of their kids! And grandpas take care of their grandchildren. It was his _job_.

“Scott,” Tessa chastises gently, “It was a flying Twix bar. He couldn’t possibly have seen that coming. You’ve got to cut him some slack.” 

“I – It’s just –“

“It’s just what?”

“I wasn’t here, T," The words explode out of him, "I left and got distracted and she needed me and I wasn’t here.” And dad’s are supposed to take care of their daughters. He’s supposed to take care of her, protect her, keep her safe, and he blew it.

“You went to get pie tins. You didn’t abandon her. It was an accident that could have happened to anybody.”

Only it didn’t happen to anybody. It happened to his daughter because he was off with some woman – more concerned with getting laid than he was being away from his kid for too long. The thought that she might need him hadn’t even crossed his mind. What kind of dad does that make him? 

“Angela was there…” Scott gestures vaguely, making the implication clear with some simple hand movements and a look, “I didn’t have to be gone that long. I messed up.”

“Ah,” Tessa nods and goes silent for a moment, contemplating what he said, before going back to rubbing his knee, “Well, still – you couldn’t have known. She was in a safe place and you assumed it would stay that way. But accidents happen. It’s just one of those things.”

“But maybe it wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t been thinking of myself and my own fucking selfish desires. I hate that she was hurt and I wasn’t here. I _hate_ it.”

Tessa hums understandingly and squeezes Hannah’s foot, running her fingernails up the arch before dancing her fingers up Hannah’s ribs to her neck, and Hannah giggles happily. The sound does wonders for the ache in Scott’s chest, the knot that had formed when he’d seen the red spot on her forehead loosening somewhat as she laughs and proves she really is going to be okay.

But still, he knows it wasn’t really his dad who fucked up tonight, it was him, and he resolves to do everything he can to make sure it doesn’t happen again. 

“You like having sex and Angela’s always had a crush on you, I would have been surprised if you said no to that.” Tessa laughs awkwardly and bites her bottom lip, doing a funny sort of shrug, and Scott shakes his head.

“I should have said no though. And in the future, I will. I’m swearing off sex.”

Tessa chokes on her own laughter, her body wracked with the strangled sounds escaping her lungs as she curls in on herself and tries to get her reaction under control. “I’m sorry – I just – I’ve known you for twenty years. I don’t think you’ve gone longer than a few weeks without sex since you turned eighteen.”

Okay, she has a point, but that doesn’t mean he can’t change. At least in one aspect.

“I mean casual sex,” Scott amends, “Quick fucks. Clearly they only have negative consequences for me now. Not that Hannah is a negative, she’s amazing and perfect and I love her,” He pauses to drop a kiss to the top of his daughter’s head, holding onto her a little tighter, “But you get my point. I’m not going to let myself get distracted by that stuff anymore.”

Tessa perks up a little, her green eyes sparkling with mischief, “So you’re done being Toronto’s most desirable bachelor? No more of Scott Moir roaming the town and picking up women?”

“I can’t help if I’m still desirable,” Scott wiggles his eyebrows at her, his mood lifting with her laugh, “But yeah. I’m just going to focus on Hannah and hockey right now. She’s way more important. I don’t want to let meaningless distractions get in the way of being a good dad.”

"You are a good dad, Scott,” Tessa smiles at him, this time without any trace of teasing or mockery, “Hannah’s lucky to have you.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. Don’t you know by now never to doubt me?”

“When the Virtch thinks she’s right, she usually is,” Scott teases, nodding his head with mock solemnity, and Tessa flicks his earlobe.

“Damn straight. Now,” She hops up from the couch, sticking her hand out in front of his face and wiggling her fingers, “I think it’s time we introduce Hannah to _Hocus Pocus_ , what do you say?”

“I say yes, after I apologize to my parents.” He never should have taken his frustration with himself out on them, his dad especially, it wasn’t fair – and he can tell by the way Tessa grins proudly that she thinks so too and appreciates his plan. Which, like she said, definitely means it’s the right one.

“Perfect. Let’s go.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm leaving for vacation tomorrow so there won't be an update for a little while. Sorry! See you in a week or so!


	6. and all day and all night and everything he sees is just blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A charity event and Tessa gets her LSAT score!

** and all day and all night and everything he sees is just blue **

Blue.

There is so much _blue_.

The entire venue, from the drapes rippling down from the ceiling like waves to the long tubular crystal chandeliers to the curtains hanging on the back of the stage providing the backdrop to Alexz Johnson as she sings her latest single, is coated in the same color family. Not to mention that everything in the giant room, if not already blue itself, has been bathed in an icy blue light. Which makes sense, given that this is a Maple Leafs fundraising gala, but is still a lot to take in. Like finding yourself dropped in the middle of the ocean without a clue how you got there.

Scott takes a tentative sip of the signature cocktail he’d been handed upon arrival, some dyed-blue vodka-based concoction that tastes vaguely like a blue raspberry slushie mixed with varnish, and grimaces as he swallows it down. These events always have to serve some sort of _special_ drink, something created just for tonight, and it drives him crazy. Would it kill whoever plans these things to serve a decent glass of wine or something simple like a beer?

“This stuff tastes like shit,” Chiddy comments idly beside him, sipping his own glass with puckered lips, “Like a blue Jolly Rancher melted inside a bottle of nail polish.”

He's not wrong and Scott snorts as he sets his glass down on the closest flat surface. It’s only half empty, but there’s no way he’s going to be able to finish the rest of it. Not unless he wants to be sick later. “At least it’s not the same thing they served last year. That nearly put half the team out of commission.”

"Ugh, don’t remind me about the blueberry whiskey incident,” Chiddy visibly shudders, “I still wake up in a cold sweat from nightmares about that sometimes. Worst drink I’ve ever tasted. At least this is all for a good cause though, eh?”

“Yeah,” Scott hums in agreement, smiling as he looks around the crowded room at all the people milling about in their best dress. The drinks might be terrible, and the color scheme might be lacking in variety, but the event itself is not bad.

The annual “Night with Blue and White,” presented by Rogers and organized by the Toronto Maple Leafs in support of MLSE Foundation, is a party the entire team and coaching staff attends once a year. All of the proceeds benefit the work of MLSE Foundation and projects like MLSE LaunchPad – a place where youth use sport to recognize and reach their potential - while also giving attendees a chance to spend time with their favorite Leafs players. It’s the only night of the year when the entire Leafs team – players, coaches, and managers – and their wives and partners, are together in one place, and Scott always looks forward to it.

The whole team rarely gets a chance to spend time together outside of the arena, and it’s also a special evening where fans have an opportunity to talk to the Leafs players, share dinner and cocktails with the team, and feel part of the spirit of what makes the Leafs team so special. Scott also likes getting the chance to meet the younger fans who will be benefiting from the money they raise tonight and watch their faces as they meet his teammates and the other celebrity guests. Nothing beats the way a kid's eyes light up when they meet their idol. 

Not only do they have hockey players here tonight, there’s also an impressive line-up of musical guests. This year the headliner is Alexz Johnson, a philanthropist in her own right and here to promote her new album, and it’s obvious from the way the audience is moving that they’re enjoying her music.

Scott likes her stuff, too – what he’s heard so far, anyway – but he can’t help but sigh longingly for their favorite repeat guest of years past: Gord Downie and The Tragically Hip. It’s been barely a month since his death, and Scott’s still in mourning.

Nobody could write songs like Gord. He'll be sorely missed. 

The best part of the whole event, though, above all else, is that all of the money raised from the Gala will benefit a great program and help make Toronto a better place for youth. Using sport as the catalyst to provide youth with access to healthy body, healthy mind, ready-for-school, and ready-for-work programming. It’s a good cause, one that he feels strongly about, given his own history with sport growing up, and he’s proud to add his support in whatever way he can.

_Even_ if that means pausing for selfies every couple of minutes the entire night. 

Last year they raised over 1.5 million dollars, and Scott’s confident that this year they can raise even more.

“I’m glad they let me attend again,” Chiddy grumbles bitterly into his glass, forgetting himself for a second and accidentally taking too large of a swallow – making him cough and splutter loudly.

“Why wouldn’t they?” Scott hits his friend’s back a few times, trying to help him breathe properly again before his face turns the color of the room. “You’ve always been the one to cover this stuff.”

Chiddy finally manages to clear his throat and blinks back the tears that were starting to form at the corners of his eyes, setting his glass down on the table beside Scott's where it can’t hurt him anymore. “They have other options now.”

Scott follows Chiddy’s disgruntled gaze as his friend glares across the room and spots a pretty woman in a sleek sleeveless black jumpsuit interviewing Patrick Marleau. A woman he instantly recognizes as Chiddy’s co-host and arch nemesis and sole-topic of conversation over the breakfast table at their apartment for the past few months. Nothing about her screams "Enemy Number One," but maybe she's worse once she's up close and personal. 

“You guys are partners now. They wouldn’t send just one of you.” Scott tries to sound conciliatory, but Chiddy just scoffs under his breath and reaches for the glass again, but Scott shoots his hand out and blocks him. As annoyed as he might be, nothing is worth sampling that cocktail again. “When are you going to get over this? She hasn't replaced you and you guys seem to get along great on-air.”

“That’s because it’s all for show,” Chiddy explains, waving his hand around wildly, “It’s an act she puts on so that everyone will think we have this great rapport and get along so well and are meant to be, but as soon as the cameras are off she’s back to being – oh shit. She’s headed this way.”

Sure enough, Liz seems to have finished with Marleau and is headed in their direction – her face a cross between fierce determination and what Scott can only describe as extreme nerves. Not exactly the calculating look he’d expect from someone trying to sabotage her partner’s career.

“Patrick?” She stops a few feet away from them, glancing back and forth between the two men and trying to get Patrick’s attention away from the drink he’d somehow managed to retrieve without Scott noticing. “Um… Patrick?” She tries again when he doesn’t answer, keeping his eyes entirely focused on his glass, and Scott elbows him in the ribs – forcing him to splutter and look up.

“What?”

“It’s time to film our combined bit now. I’ve finished with the canned interviews, but they’ll be gearing up for the live introduction broadcast on the news any minute.”

“Right.” Chiddy sets his now empty glass (when did that happen?!) back down and straightens his grey suitcoat, looking over at Scott for approval of his outfit before turning back towards Liz. “Let’s go set up in front of the signs over there. It’ll be the best lighting. Not so –“

“Blue,” She cuts him off with a nod and a sound that could almost be a laugh, “I agree. We don’t want it to look like we’re broadcasting from inside a fish tank.” Scott laughs at the apt description, and Liz smiles up at him and sticks out her hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Elizabeth Putnam.”

“Scott –“

“Moir, I know,” She laughs, “Everybody knows who you are. I'd be out of a job if I didn't. Great game last week.”

“Thank you.” He still has his hand around hers, and they seem to realize it at the same time as they both let go with a chuckle while Chiddy clears his throat irritably beside them.

“Let’s go, Liz.”

There’s something about the way Liz’s mouth quirks up when Chiddy puts his hand on her back to encourage her to move towards their chosen broadcasting spot that has Scott following curiously behind them. She doesn’t _seem_ like a woman with nefarious intentions, if anything her ready smile and Disney-princess voice give off strong vibes of someone who would bring you chicken soup when you don’t feel well and volunteers at children’s shelters in her spare time.

They take their positions in front of the film crew and their cameraman holds up his fingers to countdown from five before giving them the thumbs up to get started. There's an immediate shift in their demeanor as they put on their host-personas, and Scott finds it fascinating to watch. You'd never know they didn't get along. 

“Lights, camera, action,” Liz begins, her face breaking out into a wide, easy smile, “It doesn’t happen often, but tonight the boys are hitting the town dressed to the nines. We’re at the Carlu historic event space here in Toronto for a Night with Blue and White – an opportunity to give back to the community and raise funds for MLSE Foundation and their latest initiative, MLSE LaunchPad.”

Chiddy watches her as she talks, his brown eyes fixed on her face, and Scott’s not sure his friend even realizes how much attention he’s giving her before he takes his cue to speak, “Yeah, this event is a marquee fundraiser in the city of Toronto, so tonight fans and attendees get to meet the entire Maple Leafs squad as well as some of our premier alumni. You walk around the room and you see Curtis Joseph, Daryl Sitler, Wendell Clark, and the next thing you know there’s Mitch Marner in his suit –“

“Looking cute,” Liz cuts in with a wink and a giggle, and Scott can see Chiddy’s face tighten for a brief second before he brushes it off and continues as if she hadn’t interrupted him.

_Interesting._

“William Nylander, Patrick Marleau, Scott Moir – just to name a few. So what fun way to support a good cause by buying a ticket, meeting your favorite players, and then seeing what you can do for MLSE LaunchPad as well!”

They continue with their broadcast and Scott leaves them to their weird partnership in favor of finding a drink that doesn’t make him want to die before he's due up on stage with the rest of the team to play Simon Says.

Whatever Chiddy and Liz's issues are, he hopes they can work them out. Sooner rather than later. He's tired of hearing complaints all the time, and he suspects that if Chiddy would get his head out of his ass for five seconds, he might actually find he doesn't mind her company so much.

****

“Alright, Han, you and I have got to work out a better system here.” Scott tugs his soaking wet shirt over his head and drops it unceremoniously into the hamper inside his walk-in closet, taking stock of the sad state of his jeans as well. “I know you love the water, and I love that you love it, but you’ve gotta stop splashing daddy when he’s trying to keep shampoo out of your eyes. It's for your own good, sweetheart.”

He strips off his pants as well and trades them for a pair of clean, but more importantly, _dry_ boxers before heading back into his bedroom and stopping in his tracks, staring down at the empty spot where he’d expected his daughter to be with a mixture of shock, worry, and excitement.

Hannah, for her part, seems completely unbothered both by his attempt at reprimanding her and his surprise at what she’s done. Scott had left her on her back on her play mat while he got changed, but now she’s rolled at least a full meter away and is currently lying on her stomach and sucking on one of her teething rings. Apparently preferring that over the toys he’d left within closer range.

“Just how did you get over there, Little Miss?” He laughs, bending over to scoop her up and dropping a quick kiss to her forehead, tickling the crook of her neck and making her giggle.

The child development book he’d purchased (basically his Bible) had said that at five months she would start rolling over from her back to her tummy and maybe try to work her legs to get ready for scooting. It hadn’t mentioned that she might get so good at rolling she’d just keep on doing it until she got to wherever she wanted to go.

“I must have gotten an armadillo for a daughter. I guess I’m going to have to keep a sharper eye on you now when I put you down to play.”

She blinks up at him, still gnawing away at her squishy toy, and Scott makes a mental note to go around the house tomorrow and pick up everything on or near the ground, just in case. His biggest fear now that she’s starting to become mobile is that she’ll find something dangerous and stick it in her mouth before he has the chance to stop her.

He finishes dressing her in her lemon-print pajamas and brushes her damp hair with the tiny white brush with the softest bristles he could find so that it won’t tangle too badly while she sleeps, before making a bottle and settling in with her in the rocking chair.

They don’t happen as often as he’d like, but the nights like this when he gets to stay home and put her to bed are his favorite.

“But the wild things cried, ‘Oh please don’t go – we’ll eat you up – we love you so!’ And Max said, ‘No!’” Scott lowers his voice as the empty bottle slips from Hannah’s drooping mouth, “The wild things roared their terrible roars and gnashed their terrible teeth and rolled their terrible eyes and showed their terrible claws, but Max stepped into his private boat and waved good-bye…”

Instead of turning the page, Scott gently closes the book and sets it aside – making sure that the soothing rocking motion he’d been keeping up the entire time isn’t disrupted. Hannah’s completely asleep now, her right hand covering her ear and her left arm dangling loosely at her side, and Scott softly tucks it back over her tummy before standing up and placing her in her crib. Draping the blanket from Danny over the lower half of her body so that she stays warm.

She’s started sleeping through the night now, and while Scott’s grateful for the solid eight hours, he is going to kind of miss the dark, quiet early mornings with her when time ceased to exist and the world was so quiet it felt infinitely small and incredibly vast at the same time.

It’s been just over two months, but she’s already growing up faster than he can seem to keep up.

He slowly pulls her door shut until he hears the _snick_ of the latch popping into place, then heads towards the kitchen to rinse out the bottle and put it in the dishwasher and grab a beer.

_Braveheart_ is on TV tonight and he and Jeff have plans to watch it together. It’s rare that either one of them is home at the same time now, what with both of their jobs hitting the busy season and Jeff’s reinvigorated relationship with Justin, and Scott’s looking forward to having the time to catch up a little and hang out.

But as he walks through the entryway there’s a quiet knocking at the front door, and the second Scott opens it up he immediately finds himself with a mouthful of dark hair and an armful of Tessa.

“I did it!” She practically shouts, her arms squeezing his body so tightly that Scott’s pretty sure he can feel the blood flow to his outer extremities being cut off. “I did it, Scott!”

“That’s great, Virtch,” He garbles, sloppily wiping her hair out of his mouth and trying to reposition her body so that her hug isn’t quite so fatal, “Did what?”

“I got my LSAT scores back today!” She pushes his shoulders just enough so that she can lean back and look up at him, and Scott’s not sure he’s ever seen her glow like she is right now. In the dim lighting of the room, she’s practically luminescent. Every inch of her humming with excitement and joy. “172! One. Seventy. Two! I did it!”

She squeals and wraps her arms around his neck, jumping up and down in the bounciest, most jarring hug he’s ever had, and suddenly he’s having flashbacks to riding the Mighty Canadian Minebuster at Canada’s Wonderland. The two experiences are not entirely dissimilar.

“Is 172 a good score?” He manages to ask while trying not to fall over under Tessa’s onslaught.

“It’s not just good,” Jeff comments eagerly from behind them, apparently having hear her arrive, and Scott sort of penguin-waddles in a circle so that he can shift around and look at the other man – who’s grinning at Tessa like she just won the lottery, “It’s great! That’s fucking fantastic, Tess! I’m so proud of you!”

Tessa lets go of Scott to trade him out for Jeff, hugging him almost just as tightly, and Scott laughs as he twists his neck and stretches his arms out – trying to recover as best he can from her attack. Not that he really minds. He’s thrilled for her and it’s practically an unspoken rule that she’s allowed to maul him anytime she gets great news.

“ _We’re_ so proud of you, T! I knew you could do it.” He grabs her hand and tugs her away from Jeff so that he can sling his arm over her shoulders, encouraging her to tuck herself close into his side and dropping a kiss on top of her head. “Always said you were a genius.”

“I’m not a genius,” She protests softly, ducking her head into his bare chest a little to hide the pretty pink blush spreading high on her cheeks, “It was just the result of a lot of studying.”

“Don’t they say success is like ninety percent preparation and ten percent perspiration? I think you could swap out success for genius and it would still be true. A genius is someone who’s well prepared – that’s you, Virtch.”

“I won’t argue about the preparation part,” She agrees, bringing her other arm up to wrap around his torso so that she’s squeezing him like a vice from the side, “But let’s hold off on the genius thing until I’m actually in law school taking real classes, okay?”

“Sure,” Scott chuckles before pretending to cough the word _genius_ and laughing when she pokes him in the ribs, “We have to go out and celebrate somehow.”

"Scott,” Tessa laughs, finally pulling away from him and gesturing haphazardly at his state of undress – something he’d forgotten about until that moment, “It’s after eight already and you’re clearly ready for bed. Unless you always go out in your underwear.”

“What’s wrong with that? Don’t you think it’s a good look?” He grins, winking at her and shaking his hips a little in her direction - throwing his head back in laughter when Tessa’s face flames red and she claps both of her hands over her eyes.

“It’s the middle of November. I just assumed you wouldn’t want to freeze to death,” She replies, her voice somewhat muffled by the hands still covering her face.

“Actually, I hear popsicle dick is very in right now,” Jeff deadpans, “Although literally freezing your balls off might not make you very popular with the ladies, but then again it _would_ save you from another illegitimate child showing up on your doorstep, so...”

Scott cringes at the mental image, resisting the urge to squeeze his thighs together, and punches Jeff in the arm. “Okay, point taken. Pants it is.”

"Thank God,” Tessa mutters, and Scott pretends to punch her on the arm, too, just for good measure, making her giggle and swat his hand away.

“Okay so once pants have been acquired, where to, Virtch? What does an LSAT champion do to celebrate?”

“We can just stay here,” She replies with an easy shrug, already moving to take off her scarf and coat, “What were you guys going to do before I arrived?”

“Drink beer and watch _Braveheart_ ,” Jeff supplies, taking her coat from her and hanging it up on the wall, “Nothing too exciting. We might be able to convince Scott to paint half his face blue though, if we’re lucky.”

Tessa grins, a mischievous twinkle in her eye as she looks at him, “That sounds perfect.”

“Uh, no,” Scott shakes his head, immediately shooting down that plan, “There’s no way we are celebrating by staying in.” Also he’s pretty sure the only blue paint they have is that cheap acrylic stuff and that makes his skin break out like there’s no tomorrow. It's not worth the risk.

“But I _like_ staying in,” Tessa protests, toeing off her heavy winter boots, “It’s cozy and nice.”

“I know you do,” Scott chuckles, shaking his head affectionately and tugging lightly on her ponytail, “You’re a home body. But I promise we can do better than that tonight. It doesn’t have to be a club. Let me think about it while I get dressed – wait here.”

It’s got to be an activity that Tessa would like. Which effectively rules out clubbing or a karaoke bar. Not that he can’t convince Tessa to do those things sometimes, but they aren’t generally her favorite activities in the world. And as much as he enjoys watching her cringe and wince and physically react to every single karaoke singer (seriously, it’s worth it to go just to watch Tessa), tonight is about her. They’ve got to go somewhere that makes Tessa happy.

He knows just the place.

A quick phone call and an outfit change later, Scott waltzes into the kitchen swinging his car keys around his index finger and whistling _We are the Champions_. “Ready to go, Virtch?”

“Are you serious?” She looks up from her conversation with Jeff, the two of them bent over his phone watching what appears to be the latest videos of his training sessions with his students, “I thought you were joking about going out.”

“I never joke about celebrating a victory.”

“We know. That’s why Hannah exists,” Jeff rolls his eyes, and Tessa giggles and bumps her shoulder against his – making Scott frown. Someday he hopes he’ll stop getting made fun of for that. 

“Laugh all you want, but you won’t be laughing when you see what I have planned. Put your coat back on.”

“What about Hannah?”

“She’s asleep. Jeff can listen for her, right buddy?”

Jeff eyes him for a second, hesitating like he’s going to say no, before finally sighing and nodding his head. “I guess, but only because I love Tessa and she deserves to bask in the glory of her success.”

“Ouch.”

“Awww, thanks Jeff.” Tessa plants a kiss on his cheek and Jeff grins happily.

“First we need to grab something, hang on.” Scott walks over the fridge and shuffles around a few random jars and jugs of milk, including a case of what he _thinks_ used to be pesto, but looks almost entirely blackened now, until he can grab the unopened bottle of Dom Perignon he’s had chilling in there ever since his thirtieth birthday two months ago.

(They’d gotten wasted on Fireball shots and cheap vodka instead and completely forgotten the champagne. It was a night that was both epic and painful in equal proportions.)

“You’ve had that hiding in there this whole time?” Tessa laughs in surprise, and Scott smiles at her and winks.

“Yep, saving it for very a special occasion. I’m just gonna transfer it into a flask real fast so we can take it with us.”

“Classy,” Jeff snarks, bumping his shoulder into Tessa’s this time and making her laugh again.

"It’s more convenient,” Scott shoots back as he tries not to let any of the expensive booze spill while he pours it into the flask, “Where we’re going they won’t exactly allow a big obvious bottle of alcohol. We have to be discreet.”

Tessa groans and starts shaking her head back and forth, clearly gearing up to fight him on this, “I swear to god, Scott, if this is a repeat of the library incident of 2010 I –“

"It’s not!” He cuts her off, trying to avoid going further in depth into that particular miscalculation. Although it doesn’t work because Jeff immediately latches onto Tessa’s frown and comment with all the inquisitiveness of a puppy.

“What library incident?”

“Nothing. Just an innocent mistake,” Scott tries to cut off the question, hoping that his short answer will be enough to placate Jeff, but Tessa speaks over him.

“Scott thought it would be a good idea to break into the campus library where I was studying for my finals carrying a bottle of rum, a case of strawberries, and an honest to god _blender_.”

Jeff snorts and starts laughing, and Scott frowns at both of them. “In my _defense_ strawberry daiquiris are one of your favorite drinks and I thought you could use a little break from all the cramming. I didn’t know only students were allowed in the library and that alcohol was expressly forbidden.”

“It’s a _library!_ ” Tessa practically shouts back through her laughter, “How could you think alcohol would be okay? And a _blender!?”_

“My intentions were good!” He protests, holding up his hands in self-defense. Honestly he’d been trying to do something _nice_ and instead he’d received a five year ban from her campus, condemnation from his coach, and absolutely no sympathy from her.

“Yeah, well, the road to hell and all that,” Tessa waves her hand around, still chuckling a little, “You deserved your punishment. You nearly got me expelled.”

“I did not,” Scott pushes her shoulder with a laugh, wagging his finger at her, “Now you’re just exaggerating for your audience. Nobody even knew I was there to see you specifically.”

“You shouted, ‘Hey, Virtch, take off your shirt and let’s dance!’” Tessa arches her eyebrow at him, folding her arms across her chest and shifting her weight onto one leg as she waits for him to try and defend himself against _that,_ and Scott cringes at the look Jeff gives him.

Okay, so maybe it had been a bit more serious than just a miscalculation. 

“I may have already had a few drinks at the time.” He explains.

She was wearing the world’s most massive sweater at the time, too, so it’s not like he was telling her to get naked or anything. He’d meant to imply that she should get _comfortable_. Loosen up a little. Take a minute to relax. It was entirely _innocent_. Despite what Scott can tell Jeff is thinking.

“I never lived that down,” Tessa groans, rolling her eyes, “They called me Daiquiri Girl for the rest of the semester.”

“As far as nicknames go, at least that’s not the _worst_ thing ever,” Scott points out, slipping the now-full flask into his pocket before putting the rest of the champagne back in the fridge, “And again, good intentions.”

“And again, the road to hell is paved with them.”

Scott sidles up to her and slings his arm around her shoulder, giving her his best, brightest smile that he knows she can't resist. “At least we’d be there together, right Virtch?”

“You’re a dork.” She rolls her eyes again, but this time there’s a smile twitching at the corner of her mouth, and Scott squeezes her arm with a grin.

“And you love me. Now let’s go!”

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

“Nope,” Scott replies, popping the P with extra emphasis, “It’s a surprise. You just have to trust me. See you in a bit, Jeff!” He calls out over his shoulder as he steers Tessa out of the kitchen and helps her put on her coat and scarf again. She may be apprehensive now (or pretending to be, at least), but he knows she’s going to be thrilled when she finds out what he has planned.

“Von Doughnuts?” Tessa’s mouth drops almost comically open as Scott turns down Danforth Avenue and flips his blinker on so that they can find a spot on the side of the road to park. “Scott, I _love_ Von Doughnuts. But it’s too late - they’re closed for the night. What are we doing here?”

Smiling to himself at how excited she is, Scott pretends to shrug like it’s no big deal, “One of the guys on the team knows one of the owners. I called in a favor.”

“You’re kidding.” She stares at him, her mouth still hanging open in shock, and Scott reaches out and pushes on her chin with his index finger – laughing as he clamps it shut for her. Her teeth clacking audibly as he does. 

He taps her on the bridge of her nose and smiles, “Would I kid about doughnuts?”

“Not if you wanted to keep your life.”

“Exactly. I know how seriously you take your fried desserts. Come on, let’s go.”

She arches a single eyebrow as he opens her door for her, eyeing him suspiciously - like she doesn't dare believe it's true, "Are you serious about this?”

“Yes,” Scott laughs, grabbing both of her hands and physically pulling her from the car and towards the red, white, and brown store entrance, “I promise this isn’t a joke. They don’t have anything fresh tonight, obviously, but you can have your pick out of all the options leftover from today.”

“My pick?” Her green eyes go wide and hopeful as she follows him towards the door, “Like… as many as I want?”

“As many as you want,” Scott confirms with a nod, and Tessa makes a happy noise in the back of her throat before throwing her arms around him for another bone-crushing hug. Although thankfully this time he’s protected by a few more layers of padding.

“Still disappointed I made you come out with me tonight?” He asks with a laugh, already knowing the answer. 

“Nope,” She shakes her head, joyous laughter bubbling up out of her, “Apartment? What apartment? I know only doughnuts.”

“I thought so. Come on.”

In the end she can’t decide which flavors she wants to try the most, so Scott buys one of each. Nutella, Sangria, Blueberry Lime, Malibu Passion Punch, Burtle, Homer Simpson, Pucker Up Sucker, Crème Brulee, Triple Chocolate, Cookie Dough, and Caramel Salt n’ Pepa (complete with an obligatory _“_ push it real good” joke that earns him a playful shove, even as she giggles). They all sound ridiculous, but Tessa looks so delighted and grateful to be there that he can’t bring himself to make her narrow it down. He loves how happy he can make her with just an offer of dessert, and besides, if anybody deserves to indulge tonight, it’s her. If it's a doughnut binge and food coma that she wants, then that's what she'll get. 

“I can’t wait to try all of these,” She says as she stares almost lovingly down at the box on her lap once they’re back in the car, “Thank you so much. This was exactly what I needed to celebrate.”

“We’re not done yet,” Scott warns, making sure her seat belt is on before pulling out into traffic (he knows how distracted she can be by chocolate), “We have another stop to make.”

“Oh no, Scott, this was more than enough – really.”

“Virtch,” He cuts off her protests, chastising her with a look and huffing out a laugh, “Let me spoil you a little, okay?”

He glances over to find her rubbing her fingers absentmindedly over the raised blocky orange logo on the box, a bashful smile on her face. “Okay.”

“Good.”

She opens the lid and starts looking over the doughnuts, trying to decide which one to try first. “So where are you taking me now?”

“I have another surprise tonight, just eat your treat and wait and see.”

Scott turns right on Gerrard and starts heading west, fiddling around with the dial on the radio until he lands on a song that they both can enjoy. Not that Tessa notices though. The song is nearly drowned out by the moan she releases with the first bite, and she quickly becomes entirely consumed by the doughnut she’s eating - to the point of doing a little happy dance in her seat, and he quietly chuckles to himself at how cute she is.

"You’ve got some just –“ He wipes the bright pink frosting off the corner of her mouth with his thumb, making sure to capture the sprinkles left there as well, “There you go.” There aren’t any napkins in the car, a gross oversight on his part, and his pants aren’t an option, so he sticks his thumb in his mouth and licks it clean – catching Tessa watching him with an unreadable expression. “What?”

“Nothing just…” She hesitates, swallowing the rest of the bite that she’d taken before his intervention before holding her doughnut out towards him, “If you wanted to try some, you could have asked. I’m happy to share.”

“Nah,” He waves her off with a shrug, “Those are your reward for doing so well. You earned them. Speaking of, what are you going to do now? Have you thought about what law school you want to apply for?”

It’s a question he’s been wanting to ask her for a while now, but couldn’t bring himself to actually bring it up. There are a lot of good law schools out there in the world, and of course he’ll support her wherever she chooses to attend and visit her every off-season and as much as he possibly can in-between, but selfishly he hopes she’ll stay close to home. Back when she was getting her bachelor’s degree she’d done a semester at McGill University before transferring to Queen’s, and that distance had been almost excruciating. 

“Um…” She sets her half-eaten doughnut back in the box and brushes off her hands before looking back at him, “Well, that score really opens up a lot of doors for me. Doors that I wasn’t really expecting. I know my mom will want me to consider Harvard or Yale or Cornell, but I’ve always thought I’d attend one of the schools here in Toronto.”

Scott breathes out a sigh of relief, the knot in his stomach loosening at her words. “Good. I don’t think we could stay friends if you became a Bruins fan.” He smirks at her and Tessa laughs, reaching for a different flavor and taking a large bite.

“You’d forgive me,” She states confidently, licking the custard out of the center of the doughnut with a swirl of her tongue, and without warning Scott sticks his finger in it and wipes a dollop of cream on her nose. “Scott!”

Tessa gasps and retaliates by smearing cream all over his cheek, and Scott catches her wrist with a laugh – moving her hand away from his face before she can do any more damage than has already been done. “What? You asked for it, T!”

“You are such a _boy_!”

“How many times do I have to tell you not to joke about hockey, Virtch,” He pretends to glare at her, but it only lasts a second before his face breaks out in a wide grin again. He wipes the cream off his cheek with his finger and sticks it into his mouth, savoring the delicious lemon flavor, while she rubs her nose clean with a pout. “Delicious.”

“You better appreciate that because it’s all you’re going to get now. I'm not sharing anymore.”

“Worth it.” He wipes off the rest of the custard and sucks it off his thumb with a loud popping noise while wiggling his eyebrows, just to tease her, and he laughs when she swats his shoulder in return and rolls her eyes. “We’re here.”

He pulls into a parking spot on the side of the road, hoping she’s at least a little impressed by his parallel parking skills, and opens her door for her - taking her hand and leading her up the icy pathway towards the austere red brick building. Long vines stretch up the sides of the walls like dark twisting ropes and snow drifts press up against the hedges like rippling waves of white – pristine and untouched - and the only light comes from a few lanterns placed in along the pathway.

“Department of Astronomy and Astrophysics,” Tessa reads the sign mounted by the door, her voice lifting up at the end and turning the statement into a question, “Why are we at the university? You're not going to make me start classes right away, are you?”

She turns to him with a teasing, tongue-touched smile and Scott laughs as he shakes his head, "No. We're here because this is where the planetarium is.”

He opens the glass door and steps aside so that she can enter first, smiling at the wrinkle in her forehead and the way she nibbles on her bottom lip in confusion - following the path of her tongue as she soothes the bite with it.

“You’re taking me to the planetarium?”

“They’re doing a Pink Floyd laser show tonight. I saw the posters for it at the arena and it seemed like something you might be interested in. I figured we could smuggle in our doughnuts and champagne and enjoy good music and an hour under the stars since it’s always too bright in Toronto to see them properly outside.”

He watches her face nervously for any signs of disappointment or disinterest, but instead he finds nothing but delight.

“That sounds perfect!”

“Yeah?” He rubs the back of his neck as he shuffles his feet, suddenly feeling a little shy, and Tessa reaches out and takes his other hand in hers, lacing their fingers together and squeezing.

“Yeah.”

They settle into their reclining seats in the dark dome theatre, throwing their coats over their legs once Tessa’s tucked into his side. It makes it easier to hide sharing the flask if there’s less space between them, and Scott finds it’s pretty comfortable having her there – even if she does occasionally spill doughnut crumbs on him. Her attempt at eating without getting caught by tearing off pieces in her lap making it much messier than normal. 

The show is pretty cool, but as the familiar piano chords of _Great Gig in the Sky_ play around him and neon lights flash across the black ceiling, Scott finds himself drifting off – the champagne and his earlier tiredness catching up to him – and before he knows it he feels Tessa gently running her hand through his hair where his head had fallen onto her shoulder.

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” She whispers softly, “The show is over.”

Scott blinks blearily and sits back up, groaning as he stretches, the joints in his shoulders popping and cracking loudly as he does - reminding him that he's due for another chiropractor appointment before the year is over. “Did I fall asleep? I’m sorry, Virtch.”

“I don’t mind,” She laughs quietly, patting his knee before putting her recliner back into its seated position and moving to stand up, “But maybe I should be the one to drive us home.”

“Yeah,” Scott chuckles groggily, still trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes as he digs his keys out of his coat pocket, “That would probably be a good idea.”

Outside the snow has started to fall in big, fat snowflakes that shimmer in the orange glow of the streetlights. It’s pretty, but Scott can tell it's the kind of storm that isn't going to let up anytime soon and it’s slicking up the roads and forcing everyone to drive much slower than normal – windshield wipers moving rapidly back and forth as they work hard to increase visibility. By the time they get back to his apartment it’s after midnight and Tessa cracks a huge yawn as she parks the car in his reserved stall.

“I’m –“ She yawns again, “So sleepy. But thank you for such a great night, Scott, I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome,” He reaches for her hand, but finds her thigh instead when he realizes she’s using it to conceal another yawn. He squeezes her there anyway, intending for it to be a comforting gesture, but Tessa squeals when his fingers dig into a ticklish spot he didn’t know existed and quickly pushes his hand away.

“Stop that!” She half laughs/half shouts, "I'm too tired for a tickle fight."

That's not what he'd intended so he holds his hands up to show her that she isn't in danger of one happening, but he definitely files the spot away for future use.

She climbs out of the car and he follows suit, turning to head towards the elevators, but stopping when he doesn’t hear her following behind him. Instead she’s standing by the back of his car and seems to be digging around in her purse for her own keys.

“You’re not going to try and go home in this weather are you?” He asks, smothering a yawn of his own and shaking his head, “The weather’s getting worse and you’re yawning like a lion.”

“I was planning on it.”

“Just stay the night, Virtch, come on,” He gestures for her to follow him before walking away - assuming she'll come along - and she skips a little as she rushes over to catch up, coming to a stop by the elevator and tilting her head at him as he pushes the button for the top floor. 

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. You can make me breakfast in the morning as payment.” 

Her grin warps into another yawn as she nods her head. “Deal.”

Scott wakes up the next morning to soft grey light filtering in through the large windows of his bedroom and the sight of snowflakes drifting lazily as they fall down from the sky and the smell of strawberries filling his nose with every breath. The bed beside him is empty and cold where he runs his hand over it – a sign that Tessa got up a long time ago - and he realizes with a pang of guilt that he'd stolen her pillow at some point. Hopefully _after_ she'd already woken up, otherwise he'll be in serious trouble.

He can tell from the heaviness in his limbs and rare feeling of being completely rested that he’d slept far deeper and longer than he has in a while. Glancing over his shoulder, the clock on the nightstand flashes 8:57 in bright red font. Two full hours after he normally gets out of bed. On a normal day, Hannah definitely should have woken him up by now.

Scott kicks the blanket off and swings his legs over the side of the mattress, tugging the old Blue Jays hoodie he finds hanging on the closet door on over his bare chest before making his way to the kitchen – following the sound of happy giggles he can hear coming from there, both an infant’s and an adult’s.

Running his fingers through his wild hair in a half-hearted attempt to tame it, he finds Hannah sitting on the counter in her Bumbo chair and Tessa shaking her hips to the beat of the Shania Twain song on the radio – holding one of Hannah’s hands as she does so that the little girl can dance with her.

(Sort of – it’s really more of a wiggle than anything, but it still counts.)

“The best thing about being a woman is the prerogative to have a little fun, woo!” Scott sings along in a high-pitched, twangy voice, pumping his fist in the air on the last word, and Tessa spins around to face him – her messy ponytail, still damp from the shower she must have taken, whipping her in the face as she slips and nearly falls on the hardwood floor, his dark grey bathrobe that was wrapped loosely around her waist falling off of one shoulder as she quickly rights herself - exposing more skin than he's used to seeing from her outside of bathing suits.

“Scott!”

“Tess!” He mimics, grinning at her as he greets Hannah with a kiss on the cheek before tugging the robe up higher on her shoulder so that it’s still covering everything properly (an act that makes Tessa blush and he absolutely does _not_ notice how that blush follows the freckles down her chest) and tightening the belt around her waist. 

“Don’t scare me like that.” She waves the spatula she’d been holding in her other hand at him, a few droplets of grease landing on his hoodie, and fixes him with a sharp eye – putting her other hand on her waist. She looks like an angry housewife about to scold him. “You surprised me.”

“Clearly,” He chuckles, “Don’t stop on my account though. It was cute.”

Tessa blushes again and rolls her eyes, jerking her head towards the pots and pans littering the stove and countertops, “I made you breakfast.”

Is that what that smell was? _Uh oh_. 

"Aw, Virtch, I was kidding when I told you that last night.” He hadn’t _really_ expected her to make him anything, partly because she stays here for free fairly often, but mostly because Tessa and cooking traditionally is not a great combination – however hard she tries to improve, she just can't seem to get the hang of it. Scott lifts the lid off the skillet to find slightly blackened bacon inside, confirming his suspicions. “Thank you, though. Why didn’t you wake me earlier?”

“Hannah woke up and I heard her through the monitor and you seemed dead to the world and like you could use some extra sleep so I thought we’d have a little girl-bonding time. Isn’t that right, Hannah-banana?” She takes Hannah’s hand again and waves it around before running her fingers lightly up her side and making her giggle adorably.

“You’re the best. I’m sure she’s been loving it.” He drops his arm over Tessa’s shoulders and pulls her in for a side hug, pressing a kiss to her temple and inhaling. Her usual strawberry scent has been replaced by his shampoo, but somehow the difference isn't as jarring as he would have expected. "What do you say we make this a real dance party though, eh?" 

He digs his phone out of his pocket and pulls up his favorite playlist, and soon the room is filled with the sound of _Footloose_. Scooping Hannah out of her chair, Scott grabs Tessa's hand and swings her around in a wide circle - even as she pretends to groan at his song choice. 

"Not this again." 

"Come on, T, kick off your Sunday shoes!" 

She tries not to laugh, but fails when he attempts some fancy footwork that bounces Hannah around and has her giggling in his arms, and Scott grins at both of them. It’s Sunday morning, he doesn’t have a game to run off to tonight, and he’s got his two favorite girls at home with him dancing in the kitchen.

What could be better?


	7. danse des incroyables et merveilleuses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott has a surprise for Tessa, and 2017 gives way to 2018!

** danse des incroyables et merveilleuses **

“So as we’re all arriving and getting situated and going through our little morning rituals, Sketch walks up to Morris with a shit-eating grin on his face and asks, ‘Did you see what I added to that letter from Van Dyke, man?’” Tessa’s voice drops low in an almost perfect imitation of her coworker, and Scott laughs as he tucks his cell phone between his jaw and shoulder to free up both of his hands.

He pulls his new car (having finally traded his sports car for a sensible SUV that Acura had hooked him up with) into one of the staff parking spots in the Four Seasons Theatre underground parking garage, shutting off the engine and digging around in his glove box for the instructions he’d printed out earlier. While he does, he can hear Tessa moving around through the phone, a sure sign that she’s ranting to him over the speaker while she gets ready for tonight. “Don’t tell me he –“

“He did,” She confirms, “Sketch thought it would be a funny little surprise for Morris if he changed ‘ _as you may be aware, this is a very serious claim’_ to ‘ _as you may be aware, I am so horny I want to fuck your brains out.’”_

Scott almost chokes on his own tongue as he starts laughing in surprise, the words “fuck your brains out” sounding both extremely alien and somewhat arousing coming from Tessa’s mouth, although he can tell from her silence that she doesn’t find the situation quite as funny as he does. “Please tell me Morris caught it before he sent the letter.”

“He did not,” Tessa grimly confirms, “He sent the letter off last night without doing one last check because he had already read it so many times he assumed it was still perfect. He sent a sexually explicit letter to – Scott, stop laughing! – a sixty-seven year old woman named Edith signed by one of the firm’s partners!”

He knows he should be taking this seriously, there isn’t really anything funny about a coworker pranking another one in such an immature and potentially risky way, and the guy’s definitely going to get fired, which sucks, but he can’t help himself. The mere thought of the look on the older woman’s face (he’s met her a couple of times while visiting Tess at work – a lovely lady who probably has never had an explicit thought in her life) is as hilarious as it is horrifying.

“I’m sorry, I just –“ Scott takes a few deep breaths to get himself under control before continuing, “I just can’t believe that actually got sent out. Did Sketch get fired?”

“I don’t know,” Tessa’s sigh is somewhat muffled by the sound of water sloshing around, and Scott catches her humming under her breath in satisfaction. _She’s taking a bath_ , he realizes, right before tripping over a crack in the sidewalk (an unrelated accident, of course). “He got called into Van Dyke’s office right before I left. I hope he doesn’t get fired. He’s a jackass, but he’s really smart, and I’m sure he never would have done it if he thought Morris wouldn’t catch it before sending it out.”

“Well I doubt anyone at your office will ever try to pull a stunt like that again,” Scott snorts, pushing – no - _pulling_ open the heavy glass door at the back of the theatre and slipping inside, enjoying the blast of hot air that greets him and helps chase away the frozen tundra outside.

He’s immediately greeted by a wall full of photos of past ballet dancers, each one seemingly more flexible than the last, and Scott mentally winces at one of the men doing the splits horizontally. He’s pretty proud of how flexible he is for an adult male, but that’s a bit too much for him and he sincerely hopes he won’t be asked to do anything like that tonight.

“I don’t think anyone will try any pranks for a long, long time,” Tessa agrees. There’s a loud squelching sound, and Tessa laughs as she adds, “Sorry. That was my shampoo. I’m multi-tasking.”

Trying _not_ to imagine what she looks like right now, Scott asks, “Are you sure it’s safe to have your phone in the bath? Aren’t you afraid of it falling in and electrocuting you or something?”

“That’s toasters and blow dryers,” Tessa snorts, “Not iPhones. Besides, it’s sitting on the windowsill. I’m perfectly safe.”

Scott knows what her bathroom looks like, bright and white with a treasured claw-foot tub stationed in front of a rounded second-story window. It had been one of the key selling points when she and Jordan were looking for a place to rent together in Toronto. There’s a few inches at least of space between the tub and the window, and realistically he knows that phones fall in water all the time without hurting anybody, but still – better safe than sorry. “That’s good. I don’t think anybody wants to be found naked when they die, even somebody with as great a body as you.”

The silence on Tessa’s end is deafening and Scott mentally berates himself for letting that comment at the end slip out. He’d been doing so well _not_ thinking about her nudity during this conversation and now he’s gone and made it weird.

“… Thank you?” She finally says, her voice lilting upwards at the end like she’s confused, but not entirely offended. _Thank god_. “But I don’t want to be found naked, either. There are no hazards in or around this tub, unless you count my razor, and I think it's pretty impossible for that to electrocute me.”

“Good. That’s, uh – I prefer you alive, so that’s good.” He slaps his hand against his forehead and shakes his head at himself while Tessa goes quiet again, but then after a moment she makes a funny little noise in the back of her throat like she’s trying not to laugh before a full round of giggles bursts free.

“I prefer to be alive, too,” She chuckles, in all likelihood currently shaking her head and silently making fun of how ridiculous he is, and not for the first time in his life Scott curses his inability to string words together successfully under pressure. If you look up the definition of putting your foot in your mouth it would just be a picture of his face, no explanation necessary. “What time are you picking me up tonight?”

Oh, right. There was a purpose to this phone call besides nudity. _Not_ that that had been his purpose at all, he hadn’t even known it would be an option when he dialed her number, it’s more of just a… fringe benefit. _Not_ that Tessa naked is a benefit for him ever in any way. She’s his best friend – that’s it. However much this turn in the conversation has apparently addled his brain. Which it really shouldn’t have. He’s seen Jeff and Chiddy naked before, not to mention his teammates, so this really shouldn’t be any different.

And he can’t even actually see her, for Christ’s sake! So it’s a moot point.

“Actually, that’s why I called you. I won’t be able to pick you up tonight – I’ll have to meet you at the ballet.”

Tessa sounds disappointed when she replies, her frown evident in the tone of her voice, “Why not? I thought we were going to get dinner first and then go together?”

“I know, Virtch, but there’s been a slight change of plans. Something’s come up and I won’t be able to get out of it until almost seven.”

“But the ballet starts at seven!” She protests, the water sloshing around loudly like she’d moved too suddenly and made a mess, and she mutters a low curse or two under her breath.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“What’s come up? Is Hannah okay?”

Scott almost snaps his fingers and nearly calls her a genius before clamping his lips shut. Preventing an excited, “That’s it!” from bursting free. She can’t know that she just handed him the perfect excuse – something he’d been scrambling to find all day long. “She’s fine, but Dorothy cancelled so I have to wait until Jeff can get home and watch her.”

“Oh,” Tessa sighs, seemingly settling back into her bath, “I’ll just come over there then and hang out with you until he gets there and then we can go together from your apartment. I don’t mind missing out on dinner so long as you take me to Canoe some other time. I was looking forward to trying their risotto – Jordan says it’s the best in the city - but mac and cheese at your place would be fine, too.”

“No!” He shouts over her teasing, grimacing and pinching the bridge of his nose at the way she quickly shuts up before trying again for a softer tone, “No, things are a little crazy here and chaotic and I’ve still got a lot to do to get ready on my end. You go ahead and take your time getting all dolled up and head to the Four Seasons Centre without me and I’ll meet you there.”

“Okay…” She hesitates, voice colored by disbelief and maybe a hint of insecurity as well, and Scott grits his teeth to remind himself not to confess everything to her then and there. He can tell even from her silence that she thinks she’s done something wrong, and he _hates_ making Tessa feel that way. But this will all be worth it in a few short hours – she’ll see. He just has to keep his secret until then and not ruin the surprise. “If you’re sure.”

“I am. I’ll see you in a little while, Virtch, I promise.”

He just _really_ hopes she still shows up after this conversation.

Scott hangs up the phone just as a petite woman with a closely cropped pixie cut and a bright orange scarf two-sizes too big for her neck comes bustling up to him with her hand already outstretched.

“Scott Moir?”

“Yes,” He nods, accepting the handshake with a friendly smile. It’s surprisingly crushing for a woman of her size, and he flexes his fingers a bit behind his back once she releases him to try and regain the feeling in them.

“Excellent! I’m glad you could join us tonight. I’m Jennifer Darbyshire, executive assistant to the artistic director and administrative manager. I’ll show you where you need to go.” She spins around on her heel without waiting for a response and starts marching back the way she came, giving Scott no choice but to follow her. “Your teammate, Mr. Marner, is already here and waiting for you in the rehearsal hall. We’re very excited that you both agreed to come tonight!”

Jennifer leads him down a series of hallways that Scott knows he’ll never be able to remember, each one covered with more and more photos of various prestigious ballets and operas that have been performed there over the years – a few of which he recognizes because he’d attended them with Tessa, sometimes bringing Jordan or her mom along, too - and Scott can feel his palms growing sweatier with each step. Why he ever said yes to this fucking ridiculous proposal, he has no idea.

Well, he has some idea. Mostly it has to do with a certain best friend and her love of ballet and the look on her face when she sees him tonight. But that’s hard to keep in mind with the constant reminder that he’s about to be making a complete fool of himself in front of most of Toronto’s elite.

“This is Senior Ballet Master Peter Ottman.” Jennifer comes to a sudden stop after pushing the tan wooden door to the rehearsal room open, revealing an older man in a grey paisley button down shirt standing next to Mitch in front of one of those old roll-away TVs like they used to have back when Scott was in school.

“Scott!” Peter shakes his hand with a little less vigor than Jennifer had, much to Scott’s relief. “You made it. I can’t tell you how excited the national ballet is to have you and Mitch Marner performing with us tonight. Two of Toronto’s favorite Leafs players – it’s going to be a real hit!”

“Uh, thank you,” Scott mutters, feeling the heat rushing to his cheeks and willing it to go back down. The last thing he wants is for this guy, the ballet _master_ , to know how nervous he is.

He skates around on knives while being body-slammed by huge guys in heavy padding for a living – one measly little performance in a costume (he’s really hoping it doesn’t include white tights or something too frilly) should not be a big deal.

“I was just about to show Mitch what you both will be doing, if you want to come watch the TV over here.” Peter presses play and a video of a previously taped performance starts up. “I don’t know how familiar you are with the Nutcracker story, but the Cannon Dolls appear about thirty minutes into the performance and shoot a cannon into the audience. It’s easy and a fun bit for the audience that always gets a laugh and we like to have celebrities play the part as often as possible. Don’t worry,” He laughs, catching the looks on both Scott’s and Mitch’s faces at the revelation that they'll be handling artillery, “You’ll be joined on stage by a paid professional who will be the one actually responsible for pulling the trigger and making sure everything’s lined up properly. The cannon makes a noise, but it doesn’t really shoot anything. Shakespeare taught us that lesson during _Henry VIII!_ ”

Scott looks over at Marner, who, judging from his expression, is just as confused as Scott is, and they both wait for Peter to continue – although he in turn seems to be eagerly waiting for them to laugh at his reference.

After an awkward moment in which the older man waits expectantly and neither of the Leafs players makes a sound, Peter waves his hands and sighs, “Nevermind. Lorenzo Brown didn't get that joke either. I guess none of you were theatre kids. Let’s just get to rehearsals.”

Peter leads them up on stage and quickly walks them through a rehearsal that feels entirely too brief considering they’re supposed to perform in front of a sold out house of over two thousand people, before leading them up a flight of stairs to the changing rooms.

It smells like fading BO, old grungy fabric, and a high school locker room all rolled into one – which weirdly sets Scott at ease. There are costumes of varying sizes and patterns, each one more bright and ridiculous than the last, hanging on a wheeled portable clothing rack along the wall, and Scott looks at the orange, blue, and hot pink one with no small amount of trepidation before glancing over at Mitch. “When they offered us the roles of the Cannon Dolls, I assumed we’d be soldiers or something, not… whatever the hell that is.”

“Me too,” Mitch frowns, fingering the large tassels that hang off the triangular patterns on one of the costumes, “These are like the clown costumes out of my nightmares. Or the tent the clowns live in.”

“I didn’t know you were afraid of clowns,” Scott snorts and lifts the costume that looks somewhat close to his size up to the light. He’ll have to find a hat and wig to match – a prospect he’s not looking forward to. He’d much rather wear one of his own trusty ball caps than the court jester-style thing they’re forcing him into, but that probably wouldn’t match the scene.

Despite Scott’s belief that baseball and hockey make everything in life better and should be represented and promoted as often as possible, Tessa keeps trying to convince him that not all occasions are appropriate places for wearing ball caps. He can almost hear her voice in his head right now saying this is not one of those times, and to put on the damn jester hat.

“Says the guy who’s afraid of our own team mascot.” Mitch rolls his eyes and starts to tug on an orange and blue costume over his clothes, the baggy one-piece creation fitting easily over the other layers with plenty of room to spare. “You could fit three people into this thing!”

“Comfy, though.” Scott finishes cinching up the silk rope belt of his own costume around his waist, then runs his hands up and down the soft velvety texture of the fabric. “Maybe we can take them home as pajamas. What woman wouldn’t want to wake up next to this?”

Mitch laughs and tosses over his phone so that Scott can snap a few pictures of him to send to his mom as well as take a video for his social media while he goofs around and shows off his new look. “Or maybe we can convince Babs to make this our new training gear. Roll up to away games with the whole team looking like this.”

“It would make a statement,” Scott chuckles, tossing the phone back to Mitch and waving off his offer to take a few photos of him in return. He’s confident tonight will end up on YouTube somewhere, if he ever feels the urge to walk down memory lane. “That’s for sure.”

There’s a tiny TV screen hanging down from the ceiling in the corner of the room so that they can watch the beginning of the Nutcracker from the dressing room while they wait for their turn to go onstage, and Scott fiddles with the wig in the mirror on the wall while Clara dances around the stage at her uncle’s party. He keeps glancing at the screen, hoping they’ll show the audience so that he can see if Tessa’s in her seat or not, but the camera must be fixed because it never wavers.

She’d texted him about fifty times while he was rehearsing and tried calling twice before the show, but all he could do was keep sending her short messages saying he was running late, but that he’d definitely still be there. He really wants this to be a fun, hilarious surprise for her, but he’s starting to get nervous now – after her last message included only a blunt letter K – that she decided to leave and go home when he didn’t show up in the lobby like he promised.

“Hey guys,” The door opens and a short kid dressed up to look like an old man with a long beard wearing blue robes and a hat that looks like a gilded basketball on top of a crown walks in, grabbing at his stomach like he’s rearranging the stuffing inside to make himself look fatter, “Are you almost ready to go on?”

“As ready as we’ll ever be.” Mitch slips his feet into his boots and shrugs, the tassels on his costume bouncing around wildly with the action.

“Good! My name is Larkin and I’ll be your comrade tonight. Don’t be nervous – it’s gonna go great and everybody will love you. Which one of you wants to be timid and which one brave?”

“Brave!” Scott shouts, shooting his hand up in the air like he’s back in school, and Mitch grumbles at him under his breath before agreeing to be the timid character.

“Awesome. Remember that this is a ballet so there’s no speaking – all of your movements and facial expressions need to be really expressive. You,” He points to Scott, “Need to be macho and strong. Flex your muscles, stick out your chest, and use animated arm movements. Or just, you know, if all else fails pretend you’re a rabid Leafs fan. That shouldn’t be too hard,” He laughs at his own joke and Scott shares a quick look with Mitch.

Larkin finishes explaining how they should act and reminds them that there’s a mandatory sequence where Mitch will have to faint and Scott will have to catch him before the floor does, then leads them backstage to take a few photos for the press before positioning them on stage left – ready to enter when they get their cue.

“Don’t forget,” He whispers, lifting his beard up and scratching under his chin, “Watch out for the Christmas Tree! The metal branches vibrate. Justin Smoak got whacked by them a couple of weeks ago.”

The mini-ballet students in mouse outfits finish scampering about on stage and Larkin jerks his head as if to say _let’s go!_ He pushes the red, green, and purple cannon out in front of him and Scott and Mitch follow behind and into the bright stage lights.

They emerge to loud cheers from the packed audience and Scott lets the enthusiasm guide his behavior. He really has no fucking clue how to act, so he bounces around from foot to foot – looking over to see how Mitch is handling the pressure and blinding lights – then does some sort of air guitar/drum solo thing.

Larkin pushes the cannon to the edge of the stage, looks at them both with arms crossed firmly over his chest while Mitch begs for him not to shoot it and Scott enthusiastically goads him on as best he can while swinging his arms around, and then pulls the string and –

Pop!

There’s no bang, no loud clap, just a pop like the kind you get from the cheap little confetti poppers at birthday parties. But it gets the audience laughing. Especially when Mitch runs over and jumps into Scott’s arms in an over-dramatic faint so that he can be carried off to the side of the stage.

(The kid’s pretty good at this!)

With the main part of their job now finished, all that’s left to do is stand on the side of the stage acting ridiculous while the other characters come on and do their bit, and Scott uses the opportunity to desperately search for Tessa.

_G13, G13, G13._

There. He spots her at the end of the fourth row in the middle section on the side closest to his side of the stage, sitting next to an empty seat, staring straight at him. And she’s _laughing_. Full-on, open mouthed, delighted laughter that he swears he can pick out over the rest of the crowd.

Scott’s face splits into an ear-to-ear grin and he immediately ups the ante, bouncing around even more enthusiastically than before and trying pretty much anything he can think of to keep that look on Tessa’s face.

He _knew_ the surprise would be worth it. Thank god she’s physically incapable of turning down a chance to see the ballet, even when pissed off at him.

The mouse king comes towards him and Mitch, wielding his giant silver sword over his head and swinging it around in a threatening manner, and as Larkin fires the cannon one last time and begins to lead him and Mitch off the stage Scott throws Tessa a wink, earning another laugh as she shakes her head at him and bites her bottom lip.

Yeah, _definitely_ worth it.

Off-stage and back in their dressing rooms they get de-costumed and do some quick press, answering interview questions about the show and what it was like to go onstage (less terrifying than he thought, it turns out) and whether anyone had come out tonight to support them (his good luck charm, who shall remain unnamed). And soon, but not soon enough, Scott’s released. Just in time for intermission.

He makes his way through the crowd of people funneling out into the lobby to use the bathroom and stretch their legs and get concessions and drinks, dodging between them like they’re defensemen and he’s back on the ice. Eventually making it down to the front of the orchestra seating.

“Tess!” He calls out her name, probably louder than he really needs to judging by the way multiple heads turn to stare at him, and the second she hears him she jumps up out of her chair and throws her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a bone-crushing hug.

“You’re forgiven,” She blurts out, her warm breath fanning across the back of his neck, and Scott laughs as he squeezes her a little tighter before letting go – stepping back a bit so that he can look her in the face, but keeping his hands on her waist. 

“For what? I said I would make it, and I did.” He grins unapologetically and Tessa swats his shoulder, trying and failing to glare at him.

“You made me think you’d ditched me! You almost ruined ballet for me, Scott. _Ballet!_ I love ballet!”

“I know you do, Virtch,” He laughs, pulling her in for another hug that has them both swaying from side to side, “That’s why I knew this would be the perfect Christmas surprise.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t go home,” She grumbles the words into his shirt collar, but makes no attempt to pull away from his arms, so Scott continues hugging her until the couple sitting on the other side of her need them to move so that they can get out. 

“Why didn’t you?” He asks once they’ve stepped out of the way, and Tessa bites the inside of her cheek and ducks her head, a bashful sort of smile blooming on her face.

“… Because I love the ballet.”

Scott laughs again and tugs her hand, lowering them both into their seats so that they can stop providing a free intermission show to everyone around them – some of whom have no doubt recognized him and are probably coming up with wild theories about who the beautiful woman beside him is.

(Tessa’s been tied to him in the press a few times over the years. An unfortunate byproduct of his fame and their near-constant togetherness. But he’s tried to do a pretty good job of protecting her privacy. The last thing he wants is to fuel more inaccurate rumors.)

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist a free ticket, even if you thought I was a jackass for most of the first act.”

Tessa’s cheeks turn pink as she slowly nods, “I’ll admit the thought had crossed my mind, but then when I saw you come out in that costume I laughed so hard I forgot to be angry. It _was_ the perfect Christmas surprise. Thank you.”

Her hand finds his, winding their fingers together before gently squeezing, and Scott squeezes back as he smiles at her. “You’re welcome. It was actually really fun.”

“Yeah?”

“Terrifying. But fun.”

“So you regret not auditioning for the national ballet with me twenty years ago?” A sly smile spreads across her face and she leans forward on the armrest between them, releasing his hand so that she can prop her chin up and cock her head to the side, and Scott rapidly shakes his head back and forth.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. I wouldn’t go that far. You’re the one with that talent, T, not me. You were always the more artistic one.”

“I don’t know,” She presses her lips together and hums thoughtfully, “I think you can do anything you put your mind to.”

Her gentle earnestness hits him solidly in the chest, and Scott finds himself inexplicably blushing and shutting down a wave of emotion as he murmurs, “Thanks.”

Tessa smiles and sits back in her chair, getting ready for the second act, and Scott takes the opportunity to actually look at her properly for the first time. She’d done up her long dark hair in some sleek look he thinks is called a chignon (a term she must have taught him at some point) and her long straight golden earrings shimmer as they catch the lights – making her neck look a million miles long. She’s wearing a shiny black dress he’s never seen before – one side of it long-sleeved and the other completely bare – and Scott comes to the conclusion that she’s easily the prettiest woman in the room.

“You look really nice tonight, by the way.” Nice seems too trivial a descriptor, but he wouldn’t tell Chiddy or Jeff they look gorgeous, so he’s not going to tell Tessa that either, even if it is the more deserving term. “Is that a new dress?”

“Thanks!” She beams at him, smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles and unintentionally drawing Scott’s attention to just how much of her thighs are visible, “I borrowed it from Jordan. Do you like it?”

“It’s nice,” He repeats himself and shifts back in his seat as the lights above them dim and the audience starts to hush. If it's that short on Tess, he hates to think about how short it must be on her taller sister.

Tessa murmurs another thank you just as the curtains open, and Scott shakes his head to clear it of whatever non-platonic thoughts may have been threatening to form.

It’s just Tessa. She always looks beautiful. He’s used to it by now. Tonight shouldn’t be any different and he refuses to let his baser male thoughts intrude on a perfectly perfect evening. The only reason he noticed her thighs is because it’s been a couple of months since he last had sex and he’s not used to it. That’s all.

The scene opens on the Land of Sweets and Scott refocuses on the play and the reason they’re here tonight, comfortably shoving any other thoughts out of his head.

****

“Okay, Hannah, your job is to tell me what kind of hand your dad has. If it’s good, wave your hand, if it’s bad, drool.” Chiddy leans across the green felt table top they’d set up for tonight’s game, his expression overly serious, and makes direct eye contact with Hannah – holding her gaze as if the six month old is somehow going to both understand and agree to his demands.

He seems determined, adamant that she’s going to be on his team, but Hannah just blinks and continues sucking on her ring of toys. The tiny green eyeshade she’s wearing to signify her role as honorary dealer slips forward over her face a little as she plays with her toy, and Chiddy tilts the hat back up so that he can continue attempting to intimidate her.

“Hey!” Scott protests, holding his cards away at an angle with his left hand so that neither Hannah or Chiddy can see them and pushing Chiddy’s shoulder with his right, “Don’t try to use my daughter against me to cheat!”

“It’s not cheating,” Chiddy leans back into his chair and glances at his cards before throwing a few chips into the center of the table to match the current bet, “It’s teamwork.”

Justin laughs as he matches the bet, then raises it with a few more chips – his calm, collected demeanor giving nothing away. His poker face has really come a long way since the last time he and Jeff dated, and he might actually pose a viable threat now. Scott’s going to have to keep an eye on him.

“Can I get in on this strategy?” Jeff perks up beside his boyfriend, jerking his head towards the oblivious infant in her high chair and grinning. “Hannah, keep an eye on Tess, too. She’s a shark!” Jeff claps his hands together as if they’re big teeth biting down and Hannah giggles.

Tessa makes a noise of protest from Hannah’s other side and moves as if to throw one of her chips at Jeff before thinking better of it and sliding it into the middle of the table instead – adding a few more on top in a neat stack for good measure. “Don’t blame me just because you always seem to lose the most on poker night. I keep telling you it’s that twitch by your left eye, but you won’t stop doing it.”

“It’s involuntary!” Jeff cries, making everyone around the table laugh, and Tessa arches her eyebrow at him and shakes her head – wagging her finger for good measure.

“It’s a complete giveaway.”

“Technically,” Nikita cuts in with a mournful little sigh, “I always lose the most.” He frowns overdramatically, but his face lifts a little when Tessa pats his back sympathetically, his whole posture seeming to blossom under her attention, and Scott resists the urge to roll his eyes.

“You just need more practice,” Tessa urges with a squeeze of his shoulder, “I’ll help you, if you want.”

“How is _that_ not cheating!?” Chiddy shoves his hand out in a wide gesture, nearly knocking over Matt and Tyler’s beer bottles in the process. Thankfully Scott’s teammates have quick reflexes and are able to move them in time, otherwise they would have had a real mess on their hands and their annual New Year’s Eve poker night would have come to an early, wet and sticky end.

“It’s not cheating because it’s teaching,” Tessa explains, completely unflustered by Chiddy’s outrage, and Scott smirks privately to himself while they argue back and forth. Chiddy should know enough by now not to debate Tessa in, well, pretty much any topic, but especially something like this where she’s having _fun_ riling him up. It pushes all the right competitive, mischievous buttons for her.

There’s a reason she’s going to be a lawyer, after all.

“It’s not cheating, it’s an excuse to help him win. The two of you are going to team up and steal all our money and then go buy a boat or something.”

“It’s not stealing if it’s won fair and square,” Tessa grins, “And I’d never spend your money on something as frivolous as a boat. I’d go to France.” She jerks her head to where Scott’s just dealt the last card for the round – a queen of hearts – on behalf of Hannah, who, despite being honorary dealer, hasn’t quite managed to grasp the complexity of poker in her six months of life, “It’s your turn again, by the way. Are you in or are you out?”

Chiddy frowns, looks down at his hand, and then tosses his cards face down on the table, “Goddammit, Tessa.”

She throws her head back and laughs while everyone else lays down their cards to reveal that she won the round – _again_ – and smiles at Chiddy while scooping up all of the chips in the middle and pulling them in to add to her own steadily growing stacks of colored piles, “Maybe next time. If it’s any consolation, I’ll take you to France with me.”

She winks and Chiddy pushes away from the table and stands up, “Damn right you're taking me. I’m getting another beer. Does anyone want anything?”

“Another glass of the peach Moscato, please!” Tessa calls after him, still organizing her chips, and Scott tacks on a request for another beer.

“What about you, Matt?” Chiddy gestures towards the other man’s empty bottle, but Matt shakes his head.

“Nah, one was enough for me tonight.”

Chiddy frowns, “You don’t want any more? Scott bought out half the liquor store for tonight, so don’t feel bad about drinking his booze.”

It is odd, now that Chiddy’s pointed it out, and Scott pauses straightening Hannah’s hat again to look over at his teammate. They’re all pretty good about not drinking too much during the season, but on holidays they let themselves cut loose a bit and Matt’s always right there with him. It’s out of character for him to only have a single beer – especially on poker night.

“I’m just not really in the mood. Thanks, though.”

“What’s wrong?” Tessa asks in concern, clearly having picked up on the same details that he and Chiddy had, and Matt sighs long and hard before squaring his shoulders and opening his mouth to reply.

“Sydney and I broke up so I just don’t really feel like partying.” He speaks the words in a rush, like the wound's still fresh and saying them out loud only pours in fresh salt, and Scott's mouth drops open. He could have sworn that if anyone could make a long-distance relationship work, it would have been those two. They'd always seemed so in love. 

“Oh no!” Tessa jumps up from her seat and immediately runs around the table to give Matt a big hug from behind, and he sort of pats her hands awkwardly in gratitude when she refuses to let go until she feels like he’s properly comforted. “What happened?”

“She said the distance was just too hard. I offered to try to transfer to the Habs, or at least find a place up there for the off-season or something, but she didn’t want me to. She said sometimes things don’t work out and people have to go their separate ways.”

“Maybe there’s still a chance,” Jeff smiles encouragingly, gesturing to his boyfriend, “Justin said almost the same thing to me once, minus the long-distance bit, and look at us now – happier than ever. She might change her mind and realize she’s still in love with you and that making the long-distance thing work is worth it.”

“I doubt it,” Matt sighs again, shooting a glare at his empty beer bottle, before muttering, “Her friend Patricia tagged her in a photo on Instagram yesterday with another guy. They looked pretty cozy.”

“I’m so sorry,” Tessa wraps her arms around Matt’s shoulders again, looking up at Chiddy and glaring until he sighs helplessly and joins in – turning it into an awkward group hug. She gets Tyler and his wife Molly to join in, too, until they’ve pretty much covered him in a dogpile of support, and Scott has to stifle his laughter at the image they make.

“That sucks, man,” Scott shakes his head and finishes off the rest of Tessa’s Moscato – figuring that Chiddy’s about to replace it, anyway, so she won’t mind, “You can never trust a woman, but at least you got to keep the dog.”

“Scott!” Tessa pushes her way out of the group hug with an impressive amount of force and puts her hands on her hips with a fierce glare, clearly offended.

“What?” He doesn’t see why _she’s_ upset. He and Matt are the ones who have been ditched by their significant others for other people. His bitterness is totally justified and she should know that better than anyone since she witnessed most of his heartbreak firsthand.

“You can’t say something like that! Sometimes people break up and sometimes it’s because one of them met someone new and sometimes that causes pain, but you can’t just dismiss all women as being like that or not being trustworthy.”

“That’s been my experience.” He shrugs and waves the empty glass at Chiddy, prompting him to head off towards the fridge and retrieve the rest of the alcohol.

“Well I don’t think you should give up on love entirely just because one girlfriend left you for someone else. You have to keep your heart open to possibilities.” Tessa drops back into her chair with a huff, refusing to look at him and instead reorganizing her poker chips. An action that is ultimately fruitless because Scott knows she’s just going to change it back to her standard layout once the game starts again.

Shit. He hadn’t meant to _offend_ her. It was just an offhanded comment. A throwaway line meant to show solidarity with Matt. But somehow he’d gone and fucked up Tessa’s mood in the process.

“Don’t start getting all sentimental on me, Virtch.” He attempts to tease her, trying to lighten the atmosphere, and Tessa seems to hesitate over something before she finally looks over at him with a sardonic smile.

“And don’t try to pretend you aren’t sentimental, Moir. Don’t forget I used to be on the receiving end of all of your ramblings about soulmates and finding ‘the One’ someday.”

“Back when I was young and naïve,” Scott sniffs, sticking his chin up in the air as if he’s above such things and pretending to straighten an invisible tie – hoping to make her laugh – but it’s Chiddy who gets her to break.

“So last Tuesday?” He cuts in, throwing Tessa a grin, and the two of them break out in laughter at his expense while Scott scowls.

“That doesn’t count. We were watching _Walk the Line_. You know Reese Witherspoon in that movie is my weakness. I can’t be held accountable for anything I said about love and romance during that movie.”

“We’re your friends,” Tessa shoots back, “We can hold you accountable for whatever we want.”

Scott slouches down in his chair, folding his arms over his chest, refusing to look at either of them as he grumbles, “Rude.”

If they're friends they least they could do is cut him some slack regarding his celebrity crush.

“Hey, Scott, have you heard anything about the Olympic team selection yet?” Molly asks, sipping on the ginger tea that she brought with her tonight to help soothe the upset stomach that seems to be plaguing her second pregnancy. It’s a half-assed attempt to change the subject, but he’s grateful for the distraction anyway.

“No,” He shakes his head and deals a new round of cards to everybody now that Chiddy’s stocked up the drinks again. Hopefully he’ll have a decent hand this time - his cards really have been terrible tonight and while he wouldn’t mind funding a trip to France for Tessa in the slightest, he’d rather it not be the result of a stunning defeat on his part. “Babs mentioned the decision should be made in the next few days though.”

“Do you think any of you will be on it?” Justin asks curiously as he and Jeff utterly fail at hiding their collaboration over each other’s cards. Their lovey-dovey teamwork too sweet for anybody to call them out on it. 

“I’m sure Scott will,” Tyler chuckles, “He’s practically a Canadian Olympic team staple at this point. And Marleau probably will be asked, too. I don’t think the national team exists without them.”

“Don’t jinx it!” Scott cries out, not caring that Tyler was obviously poking fun at him. So what if he has been to the Olympics twice with Marleau? That doesn’t mean he isn’t eagerly awaiting the prospect of a third time.

“You just want more bobbleheads and action figures,” Jeff snorts, “Honestly, Scott, it’s not healthy for a grown man to play with himself that much.”

“That’s what she said,” Chiddy immediately responds, and Tessa does actually throw a chip then – hitting him squarely in the chest and earning a cry of mock outrage. “I’m keeping this now! That’s a free fifty bucks, so thanks.” 

“There are children present!” Is all she says in return, pointing at Hannah who’s now entirely focused on trying to capture the little yoghurt puffs Scott dumped out on the tray for her and get them into her mouth. It’s something new that they’re trying and it’s cute watching her learning how to coordinate moving her hands from the tray to her mouth without dropping the tiny treats.

“Tess, Hannah lives with us - three grown men,” Jeff points out, “She’s used to it.”

“You should still watch your language, and if Scott wants to play with himself, that’s his business.” She primly shuffles her cards before placing her bet, but anyone can see from the sly smile playing at the corner of her mouth that she knows exactly what she just said.

“I don’t keep that stuff for myself!” Scott interjects, throwing one of the yoghurt puffs at Tessa as punishment for her joining in on the innuendo, “I give it all to my nephews and nieces.”

Well, most of it, anyway. Maybe he does have a box or two tucked away with keepsakes for himself. But so what? It’s cool to see a little action figure with the number 14 on the jersey and his name across the top. There’s nothing wrong with that. If he was an actor in a superhero movie nobody would think twice about it. And he does _not_ play with them.

Himself, well, that’s another matter entirely. One that he won’t dignify with a response.

But the action figures aren’t the only reason he wants to be chosen for the team again. He genuinely really enjoys it. Loves representing Canada out on the ice with the feeling of the whole nation’s support behind them – encouraging them forward. The opportunity to wear the red and white and hear the national anthem play as their flag rises high above the podium.

And yeah, okay, maybe he also kind of likes the idea of being a three-time Olympian.

And maybe he also dreams about that becoming three-time gold medalist.

But it’s definitely the chance to represent Canada that comes first. Especially now that he has Hannah. It means something just a little bit _more_ now that he has a daughter to represent and make proud, too.

There had been a lot of worry over the past few months that none of the NHL players would even get a chance to go, though. With all of the drama between the NHL and the IOC over financing and nobody knowing if they would be able to come to an agreement in time for the PyeongChang Olympics, so he’s just relieved that being on the team again is even an _option_ this year. It very nearly wasn’t.

“Well, I hope you make the team,” Justin says kindly, “It would be pretty cool. I’ve always wanted to go to South Korea.”

“Me too,” Tessa agrees, and suddenly Scott’s daydream about him and Hannah and the rest of his family hanging out at the Games in Korea expands to add Tessa. Of course she has to come too, if he makes the team, that is. She couldn’t make it to Sochi because of her work schedule – her firm had been in the middle of a really important case, much to his disappointment (his girlfriend had been there, but it just hadn’t been the same) – but if he gets to go this year then he’s not taking no for an answer. He needs Tessa Virtue by his side for his last Olympic games. 

The poker game continues, with Tessa winning almost every round (although Justin surprisingly manages to hold his own), until there’s only half-an-hour left until midnight and they have to stop playing so that they can turn on the TV and watch Rick Mercer host the CBC countdown from Niagara Falls. Watching as he shows firework celebrations from across the country and features some great Canadian music.

“We should go outside for the actual countdown,” Tessa suggests, “I think we should be able to see at least a bit of the show from Nathan Phillips Square from here.”

“That’s a good idea, Virtch,” Scott nods, “Let me just grab a blanket for Hannah real fast and we can all go out on the balcony.”

Chiddy, Jeff, and Tyler all prepare glasses of champagne and hand them out to everyone before they filter outside where they can hear the crowd in the square counting down in person, just like Tessa thought they would be able to. From this height Scott’s fairly confident that they’ll be able to see the tops of the fireworks, too, maybe more.

Even though it’s pretty fucking cold, he prefers being out there to staying indoors. Somehow being outside makes him feel more connected to everyone else in the city as they ring in the new year. It’s… comforting.

_Ten!_

Jeff and Justin cozy up together, arm in arm as they wait for the show to begin.

_Nine!_

Tyler wraps an extra blanket around Molly’s shoulders and rubs her protruding stomach while she holds both glasses of champagne – one for him, and one that he’ll be drinking on her behalf.

_Eight!_

Scott watches Nikita inching towards Tessa with a roll of his eyes and a doleful smile. Clearly hoping that he’ll be the lucky recipient of her midnight kiss. The poor guy just doesn’t know when to give up, which means it's going to be up to Scott to save him from himself.

_Seven!_

“Hey, Virtch!” He calls over to her, dragging her attention away from his teammate, “I think Hannah wants a new year’s kiss from her godmother, whaddya say?”

Tessa smiles at him and immediately comes to stand by his side, leaning over his shoulder to peak in at Hannah’s sleeping face. “I don’t think she’s going to notice the new year one bit. She’s probably dreaming about princesses and dragons and bottles of warm milk.”

“It’s the principle of the thing. She needs to start her new year the right way," Scott insists, still keeping one eye on Nikita where he sulks in the corner.

“Wouldn’t that be a kiss from her dad?”

“ _And_ from her godmother. It’s important to have both, you know? Don’t want to start her out in 2018 on the wrong foot, eh?”

Tessa cocks her head and looks up at him funnily, like she’s trying to figure something out, and Scott isn't sure why but he feels a rush of self-consciousness.

"Okay," She finally says just as they hear a distant _two!_ and when the crowd screams at midnight and fireworks start exploding in the distance they both lean down together and press gentle kisses to the top of Hannah's head. 

"Happy New Year, sweet girl," Tessa whispers tenderly, running her thumb over the spot where she kissed Hannah, and Scott swears his heart grows three sizes inside his chest. He doesn't know why, but he's seized by the sudden impulse to kiss her, and he doesn't try to stop himself from giving in to it - leaning in and kissing her cheek by the corner of her mouth before she has time to see him coming or he has time to overthink the action.

"You know when I said you can't trust women, I didn't mean you, right?" He doesn't know why he's whispering, only that it suddenly seems very important that she understand this, "I trust you with everything. My life, my secrets, my hopes and dreams, my daughter. You're the exception to the rule, Tess." 

A slow smile spreads across her face, and whether or not her cheeks are pink from the cold or his words, he isn't sure. "I'm glad. It's a relief to hear you say that. I trust you with everything, too." 

"Happy New Year, Virtch." He tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and Tessa smiles even wider at him. 

"Thank you. Happy New Year to you too, Scott. I hope it's the best one yet." 

He grins and loops his free arm around her shoulders so that they can watch the impressive firework display together, resting his head atop hers when she tucks closer into his side. He has no idea what 2018 will bring, but he has a feeling deep in his gut that it will be _good_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In reality, the NHL and IOC couldn't come to an agreement about financing and no NHL players were allowed to go to PYC in 2018, but that was too depressing and didn't work for my story at all - so I've fixed it. ;)


	8. rising action

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott's sore muscles lead to an interesting offer from Tessa, and an overheard conversation spurs someone into action.

** rising action **

****

Everything hurts.

From his neck to his shoulders to his lower back to his legs. There isn’t a single muscle in his body that doesn’t feel like it’s been worked within an inch of its life. Even the muscles and tendons in his hands feel tired from holding the hockey stick more than normal these past two weeks – a pain he didn’t know was possible until now. And there's a pretty nasty bruise developing on his shin from a puck gone wrong. 

He’d forgotten in the intervening years how much extra work goes into preparing for an Olympic games. The extra practices, double the gym time, the personal trainers watching every rep, the nutritionists stepping in to make sure everyone is eating what they need to sustain the extra workload and not a calorie more. Not to mention the press constantly wanting to interview him and the pressure from the fans for whom the national hockey team is their greatest source of pride and joy. 

It’s exhausting.

Scott drops his gear in a heap in the entryway of his penthouse as he lumbers into his apartment, relieved to be free of its weight. Chiddy and Jeff will give him shit about it later and there’s more than a fair chance that one of them will dump all his stuff all over his bed as punishment, but he just doesn’t have the energy to deal with it right now.

He needs to see his daughter, eat some dinner, and then soak in the bath for at least an hour. In that order.

“Dorothy, I’m home!” He heads straight for the fridge and grabs a bottle of Chiddy’s red Gatorade, opening it up and chugging half of it before coming up for air. The cold, sweet tasting liquid a balm on his parched throat. “Sorry I’m late. Practice ran a little long today. Desjardins has us studying tape after tape after tape of the Russian team players. Apparently they’re going to be our biggest threat to winning gold this year, although personally I think the Germans stand a pretty good chance, too.”

“Dorothy’s not here.” Scott whirls around at the sound of an unexpected voice, surprised to see Tessa lying next to Hannah on a big fluffy blanket on the ground in front of the couch – enthusiastically encouraging his daughter as she tries lurching forward in an early attempt at crawling. “I came over to talk to you and Dorothy had just put Hannah down for a nap so I said she could head out and I’d stay here. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t mind, Virtch,” Scott chuckles, finishing off the rest of the Gatorade before tossing the bottle into the recycling bin, “You know you’re welcome to come over anytime.”

Tessa looks up and grins at him, the bun on her head drooping messily to the side in the process, and Scott takes a moment to examine her appearance. No make-up, a thin pink sweater dangling off of one shoulder revealing the wide strap of one of her Adidas sports bras, and plain black leggings.

“How was barre class? Did Jordan take it easy on you?” He drops onto the couch in a heap, then thinks better of it and rolls onto the floor with them instead so that he can kiss Hannah on the cheek.

“No,” Tessa laughs, kicking his foot off her legs where it had landed, “She never does. I love my sister, but she can be a real tyrant.”

“Don’t I know it,” Scott hums in agreement and Tessa shoves his shoulder, looking offended as he groans in protest and rubs the aching spot, “What?! You said it, not me!”

"You weren’t supposed to agree so quickly. Now as her sister it’s my responsibility to defend her reputation.”

“I merely agreed that Jordan can be a bit of a… commanding presence.” He rolls over onto his back, groaning loudly again as he stretches his arms above his head in an attempt to ease some of the stiffness before it settles in permanently and he can’t move tomorrow. “A fact you know as well as I do.”

Why can’t he be twenty-two again? Training for the Olympics seemed so much easier back when he had boundless energy and not enough places to put it.

“You know, I _was_ going to save some of Dorothy’s oatmeal chocolate chip cookies for you, but now I think I’ll just have to eat them all myself.” She pulls a cookie out of nowhere and takes a big bite, smirking triumphantly at him while making a little noise of pleasure at the taste, and Scott simply can’t let that slide.

Strictly speaking he’s not supposed to eat cookies right now on his current diet, but Dorothy’s always experimenting in his kitchen with new recipes and no cookies have ever tasted as good as hers do, and his nutritionist will never know. Besides, Tessa’s enjoying taunting him a little too much to be allowed to get away with it.

His hand darts out without warning and wraps around her wrist, tugging her hand towards his mouth so that he can eat some of the cookie – taking a bite so big he almost gets the whole thing in one go and accidentally nips her fingers with his teeth in the process.

“Scott!” She yelps and stares at the morsel he’d left behind in mock outrage, and he starts laughing.

“That’s what you get, Virtch.”

He folds his hands underneath his head and closes his eyes as he lays back again, a satisfied smile still lingering on his cheeks. The cookie _was_ delicious, but breaking his nutritionist’s rules was worth it for the look on Tessa’s face alone. He loves the spark the flashes in her eyes whenever he challenges her like that.

At least, it was worth it, until suddenly he feels Tessa’s fingers digging into his ribcage in a merciless attack.

"Tess!” Scott cries out, half-laughing, half-shouting as he desperately tries to scoot away from her, his muscles screaming in protest, “Stop! _Stop!_ ”

“Apologize!” She shoots back, climbing over him before he gets very far and straddling his waist so that she can continue the onslaught – finding all of his most sensitive spots with an ease only years of practice can endow.

“I don’t –“ He sucks in a gasp of air, trying to capture at least one of her wandering hands before he becomes the first man to die in a tickle-fight, “- have anything to apologize for!”

“You stole from me!” Tessa finds his weakest spot, right underneath his left armpit, and the sound Scott makes is an ungodly cross between snorting and choking as he jerks his hips up in an attempt to unseat her – succeeding only in making her bounce around a few times before she keeps tickling him. “Say you’re sorry!”

“No - I –“ He manages to twist over onto his stomach, but that doesn’t stop her, and genuine tears start spilling over as he desperately grabs her knee and digs his fingers into the back of it, earning a surprised laugh and a jerk from her before she moves her leg out of reach, “Ow! Okay, fine! Ouch. Fine. I give up. I’m sorry!”

Tessa’s hands come to a stop on his shoulder blades – satisfaction radiating off her in waves - and the only sounds left in the room are their heavy breathing and Hannah’s quiet gnawing on one of her toys as they both recover.

Scott groans as he tries to lift himself up enough to roll back over again, barely managing to twist his upper body around before giving up. His shirt’s ridden halfway up his torso with all the wrestling and his sweatpants are digging in, all twisted up in uncomfortable places, and he should probably try to fix that, but his energy is officially gone. He’s going to be even more sore tomorrow now, a fact that won’t go unnoticed by the team staff.

“You’re a cruel woman.” He glares up at Tessa accusingly, hands landing on her hips to stop her from doing whatever happy dance wiggle-thing she’d been doing while he recovered his breath.

“That’s what you get, Scott,” She sing-songs, parroting his own words back at him.

“You owe me for the pain and suffering you just caused. I’ll have to take an ice bath tomorrow, T. An _ice bath_. Do you know how much those suck?”

“Because of a tickle fight?” She rolls her eyes and climbs off of him, retrieving Hannah from where she’d managed to roll her way over to grab the remote control that Jeff must have left on the ground the night before. “You’re going soft in your old age.”

“ _No_ ,” Scott groans as he sits up, propping himself up against the front of the couch, “Because I was already sore and you made it worse with your attack. Which was completely uncalled for, by the way.”

Tessa looks at him then, _really_ looks at him, and he can see the guilt setting in in real time. The way her face falls and her forehead pinches with worry and her teeth grab her bottom lip and start to nibble – her tongue darting out to soothe the spot before she opens her mouth to apologize.

“Don’t,” He holds up his hand and chuckles, “Don’t apologize. Just promise you’ll keep an eye on Hannah while I take a bath. And maybe tell me you hid some of those Epsom salts you like so much somewhere around here.”

“Under the sink in your bathroom,” She sheepishly nods, holding out her hand to help him stand up, and Scott quickly accepts the assistance, “I’m sorry if I made your pain worse.”

“I told you not to apologize,” His fingers dance up her ribs, making her squeal and jump away, and Scott laughs at her when she glares at him and covers the spot with her hand so that he can’t tickle her there again. “I won’t be too long.”

“Take your time. Hannah and I will be fine out here.”

The bath is both heavenly and entirely too short, and when Scott emerges – freshly cleaned, skin pink and warm from the water – he’s crushed to find that he’s not really less sore than he was when he got home. Maybe this is just life at thirty years old. His body just doesn’t bounce back as quickly as it once did.

What a fucking depressing thought.

At this rate he’s going to have to retire before he’s forty and enter some sort of old folks home where he’ll watch Tessa be hit on by men twice their age and with half as many teeth every time she visits him.

Tessa knocks on the bedroom door just as he’s slipping a pair of clean sweatpants over his hips and Scott calls out for her to enter without bothering to turn around.

“Feeling better?” She picks the towel up from off the back of the chair in the corner where he’d tossed it aside and neatly folds it before putting it on the bathroom counter – her standard of cleanliness much stricter than his own. “Hannah’s out like a light.”

“Yeah, the bath helped a bit. Thanks.”

A bit, but not enough, and he pauses getting dressed in order to stretch his arms out a bit more, folding one over his chest and twisting his back around before repeating the motion on the opposite side. Maybe they should add a chiropractor to their staff – Marleau has to be suffering just as much as he is, if not more.

“I should give you a massage.” Tessa’s casual offer takes him by surprise for the second time that night, and Scott whirls around to look at her.

“What?”

Surely she can’t be serious. Occasionally they’ll rub each other’s feet after a long day or sometimes shoulders during movie night, but it’s never been a formal offer, and something about the softer lighting of his bedroom and the night sky outside his windows with the city skyline in the distance and the fact that they’re alone makes her offer seem so much more… intimate.

“A massage,” Tessa deadpans, oblivious to his conflicted thoughts, “The rubbing and kneading of muscles and joints of the body with the hands, especially to relieve tension or pain.”

“I know what a massage is, Virtch,” Scott rolls his eyes and turns around to continue digging around in his dresser for a comfortable t-shirt. This doesn’t really seem like a shirtless conversation, and he’d feel better if they had a few more physical boundaries between them.

“So you should let me give you one. I sort of owe it to you, after making it worse earlier, and you seem like you could really use it.”

“You don’t have to massage me to make up for tickling me. You know I’ll just get you back for it at some point.”

“Yeah, but I still feel bad.”

“Okay, but you don’t have to, so don’t worry about it.”

_Drop it_ , is what he wants to say, _just let it go, I’ll be fine_. But she’s got that concerned look on her face now and Scott knows it’ll be a battle to get her to change her mind. A battle he doesn’t have the energy to fight right now. Tessa’s always been a bit oblivious to flirting and men (the first time someone asked her out she’d innocently invited him along and Scott had to explain that it was supposed to be a date, not a group thing, and he wasn’t supposed to be there), so there’s a very real possibility that it hasn’t even occurred to her that full-body massages aren’t exactly a thing ‘ _just friends’_ do for each other.

“But I _am_ worried. You’re clearly in a lot of pain and I can help. I did go on a few dates with that masseuse a few years ago. I learned a thing or two – let me put my knowledge to good use.” She seems very clinical about the whole thing – looking at him almost like he’s her patient, not her friend. But this could be a terrible idea. Letting Tessa’s hands roam all over his body seems like exactly the kind of thing that veers out of platonic best friends and into something more, which is exactly the kind of behavior they both _avoid_.

But… his muscles _do_ hurt like hell. And she’s offering and clearly happy to do it. Maybe he’s looking at this all wrong. Surely friends can give each other a massage without it becoming weird, right? It’s not really any different than going to a massage parlor and paying for it there, only this is free and objectively better because he gets to remain in the comfort of his own home with somebody he trusts.

With an over exaggerated sigh so that she knows he’s giving in under duress, Scott holds his hands out to the side in surrender. “Okay. Where do you want me?”

Tessa grins, her obvious pleasure at his acquiescence making him smile too, and points to the mattress. “On the bed? That way I can climb up there with you and have more room to work. I think the couch would be too restricting and the floor wouldn’t be very comfortable for you, which is the opposite result from what we want.”

Yeah, they wouldn’t want this to be _uncomfortable_ , because that would be awkward.

“I always knew you’d try to get me into bed one day.” The joke flies out of his mouth without warning and Scott almost slaps his hand over his face in mortification.

_Way to take the situation and ruin it, Moir_ , he mentally berates himself. Here he is, panicking about whether or not this activity falls into the appropriate friend zone for behavior, and his dumbass brain has to crack a joke like _that_.

Thank god Tessa laughs, even though he can see how bright pink her cheeks are, and shrugs it off – the wide neckline of her sweater slipping even lower down her shoulder in the process. “You wish.”

“Um… Shirt on or off?”

It’s not exactly the best change of topic, but it’s all he’s got.

“Whatever’s most comfortable for you.” She shrugs again before heading into his en-suite and digging around for something without waiting to see what his decision will be. 

He hesitates for probably longer than normal, debating his two choices with no small amount of agonizing, but ultimately decides to leave his shirt off. If she doesn’t care what he’s wearing, then he’s determined not to care either. Besides, everyone knows massages feel better without fabric bunching up and getting in the way. This doesn’t have to be weird.

Climbing onto the bed, he arranges his pillows how he wants them before lying face down with his arms out to the side, giving her plenty of room to work, as she’d requested. 

“I’ll start with your shoulders and go from there. Sound good?”

“Sounds great,” Comes his muffled reply, the pillowcase getting caught up in his mouth for a second, making Tessa giggle, and she kindly moves it out of the way for him.

“I couldn’t find any lotion, which we are definitely going to talk about later because everyone deserves soft skin, including you, so I’m just going to use mine for now. It’s coconut and lime. I hope that’s okay.”

“It’s fine, Tess. I’m easy to please and you always smell amazing.”

The bed dipping as she joins him on top of the mattress is his only warning before she’s straddling his hips again, sitting down on his ass like it’s any other chair, and getting to work on his shoulders – the cold lotion making him shiver and gasp.

And he was wrong. So, so, wrong. Because this _is_ weird. He’s half-naked underneath her and he can feel her ass cheeks pressing into his own and he’s never really thought about her ass before (lie) but it’s kind of hard (poor choice of words) not to when he’s only wearing sweats and she’s only wearing thin leggings and there’s nothing to distract his brain from how soft it feels and how he’s suddenly totally surrounded by her.

It doesn’t help that her hands are amazing, either. Somehow managing to find every sore spot and work the pain away without her grip being too light or too firm. It’s coaxing sounds out of him that Scott doesn’t think he’s ever made before and will be embarrassed to remember for decades to come.

He can feel himself slipping into some sort of tropical paradise headspace as the scent of coconut and lime fills the air and Tessa works her way down his arms to his hands – rubbing away the stiffness there with ease. If he closes his eyes he can almost imagine they’re on some Caribbean island with nothing but sun and sand and maybe a daiquiri or two, but that daydream quickly leads to the memory of Tessa in one of her many bikinis and Scott shuts it down immediately. Now is _so_ not the time.

Her body continuously moves around above him as she focuses on covering every inch of his upper body, like she’s taken some Hippocratic oath not to leave a single muscle untouched, and it keeps him perpetually on edge – stuck in a strange cycle of relaxing and tensing that’s both heaven and torture. 

Has his skin always been so sensitive? What exactly is in that lotion of hers?

“Is this alright?” She asks, hands pausing on the small of his back as she shifts further down to sit on his thighs so that she has more room to maneuver, and Scott, for his part, feels like a strange mix of melted, relaxed Jello and hyper-sensitive arousal that’s turned his brain into mush – making it difficult to formulate a response.

Alright doesn’t seem like an adequate word for how she’s making him feel right now.

“Mmmphh.” Is the response he ends up giving her, finding her knee with one of his hands and patting it awkwardly to show his appreciation.

“Good.” He can hear the smile in her voice, and it makes him smile into the pillow in return. She sounds so pleased with herself that he feels his muscles slacken even more. This doesn’t have to be weird if he doesn’t let it – he just has to stop obsessing. “Do you want me to do your ass, or should I skip to the legs?”

Okay, nope. Definitely weird again.

Scott tenses up at the question, a million images flashing through his brain before he can stop them, and an awkward silence descends over the room. He chuckles to cover the rising blush that he knows is creeping up his neck towards his face, as well as the other part of him that’s currently rising against his will (thank god he’s lying on his stomach, not his back), and he can practically hear Tessa wincing at her verbal gaff.

“I meant your glutes. Gluteal muscles. The main extensor muscle of the hip. Not like – I mean, I just know they can get sore easily. I didn’t mean – you know – anything inappropriate.”

“I know,” He tries laughing it off even as he forces himself to breathe through his nose and mentally list every NHL mascot in alphabetical order to try and get his erection to go away, “Maybe let’s just skip those muscles, though.”

He’s pretty sure if her hands go anywhere near his ass he won’t be able to hide his reaction, and then this whole thing will quickly go from weird to excruciatingly awkward really fast. Refusing her offer spares them both the discomfort, and him having to explain that he’s only reacting this way because it’s been so long since he last had sex. That’s all. Chalk it up to a long dry spell and adjusting to his new commitment to celibacy. His body misses the touch of a woman – that’s it. 

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. I tend to make the most embarrassing noises when my masseuse does mine – wouldn’t want you to be too mortified, even if it would provide me with some good blackmail.”

She’s teasing, he knows that she is. Trying to bring them back to more normal territory. But _fuck_ did she have to say that? Now he’s got another million images flooding his head that he _really_ didn’t need and he’s never going to be able to look at her ass the same way. NOT that he should be looking at her ass at all!

This whole thing has got his thoughts all tangled up – it’s a big mess. Maybe he can break his celibacy rule just once to let off some steam. The last thing he needs is his, well, _needs_ causing a problem between him and his best friend who’s just trying to be nice.

“I feel guilty,” He moans while she works her hands down his legs, desperately trying to change the subject as her nails drag lightly against his skin and make the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Without warning, her miraculous hands find a particularly sore spot on the back of his thigh – promptly liquefying his brain. When she said she was good, she wasn’t kidding. “You have to promise to let me do you after this.”

God _dammit_. His brain seriously thinks of the worst way to say things!

Her hands stutter and slip, digging in painfully above his knee and accidentally scratching him in the process.

“A massage, I mean,” He quickly clarifies, and he hears Tessa exhale out of her nose before she lets out a funny sort of giggle.

“Right.”

“I just meant you’re really good at this, and I want to make you feel good, too.” Scott clamps his mouth shut and resists the urge to throw her off, open the glass door, and fling himself off his balcony. That was probably the most playboy sounding thing he could have possibly said to her and it’s turning the situation from weird to worse.

He might as well just offer to eat her out and ruin their whole friendship for all his brain is struggling to communicate effectively right now. That seems to be where his dumbass mouth is headed, anyway.

Shockingly, Tessa just laughs again – this time sounding more genuine – and continues working her way down his legs to his calves. “Actually… I do kind of need to ask you for a favor. That’s why I came over tonight.”

“Anything.” He’d give her the moon right now if she wanted it. Isn’t that what the guy promises in that old black and white Christmas movie she makes him watch every year? _Just say the word and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down._

“I need you to come with me to a work thing on Friday night.”

“Okay,” He agrees without so much as a pretense of a grumble, too distracted by what her hands are currently doing to his lower legs, and he almost whimpers in protest when she stops moving – clearly surprised at his quick response.

“Okay? Don’t you want to know what it is?”

“Tess,” Scott sighs, wiggling his toes at her to try and encourage her to continue, “I don’t care as long as you keep doing what you’re doing.”

“You’ll have to wear a suit,” She warns, picking up where she left off.

“Okay.”

“And you’ll probably have to talk about hockey for half the night with Mr. Schmidt.”

“His ideas aren’t half-bad and I enjoy his commentary on the Red Wings’ defense.”

"And there’s a good chance they’ll serve fois gras or caviar or some other pretentious food that you hate.”

“So you’ll buy me a burger on the way home.”

“You’re really going to come?”

“Isn’t that the point of you asking me to?” Scott props himself up just enough to look over his shoulder at her, arching his eyebrow, and Tessa smiles and ducks her head.

“Yes, I was just expecting more of an argument. I had a whole list in my head of things I was willing to bribe you with.”

As curious as he is about what else she might have been willing to offer, he’s barely surviving offer number one so it’s probably best they remain a secret.

"Okay, one – I’m offended you thought you’d need a list considering I always accompany you to your posh work dinners, and two – I think we both know the secret to getting me to do anything now will forever be this magic massage. You’ve been holding out on me.”

“Oh… Well… thank you.”

“Sure thing.” He nods and flops back onto the pillows, burrowing in a little bit more, “Pick you up at seven?”

“Six-thirty. The earlier we get there the earlier we can bail and get you that hamburger.”

“Deal.”

She finally reaches the much safer area of his feet - far away from any area he’s mentally dubbed the “danger zone” - doubling-down on her mission and digging in on the arches like her life depends on it, and Scott forces himself to relax again.

This is just two friends, doing each other favors. She gives him a massage, he helps her get through an evening with her coworkers – tit for tat and all that. He was stupid for overreacting and letting it get to him a moment ago, allowing his hormones to take control of his body, but the moment of madness has passed.

Everything is totally fine.

****

“I think this painting is suspicious of me.” Scott eyes the gold, grey, and blue painting with a certain wariness, stepping back and forth from side to side and experimenting with the way the giant rectangular face follows his every move. It’s eerie how its eyes never seem to leave his, no matter where he’s standing.

“I don’t think it’s suspicious,” Tessa disagrees, smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles in her purple satin cocktail dress, drawing the eyes of a couple of men who have been lingering around them for the past twenty minutes to her curves, “I think it’s judgmental. It’s wondering why you wore that tie when I explicitly told you two months ago _not_ to buy it.”

“What’s wrong with my tie!?” He protests, only-half pretending to be offended while at the same time helping her out by straightening some of the lace edging on her neckline. He’s heard far too many stories from her about how some of her male coworkers treat the female paralegals; better for them to get the wrong idea than think she’s available to be treated inappropriately.

He touches his tie self-consciously when Tessa merely raises her eyebrows at it in response to his outburst, her lips pursing like she’s just swallowed a lemon. Sure, maybe bow ties aren’t very common outside of _Downton Abbey_ , but he’d thought it would make him look cool. Like James Bond international super-spy cool. The lady in the sales department had assured him of that very fact.

Although maybe it would have been better if he’d gone with plain black version instead of red, green, and white stripes.

“It looks like you tied a candy cane around your neck,” Tessa deadpans, heels clacking on the cement floor as she walks towards the next piece of art and pretends to show interest in the blurry, nonsensical streaks of red, black, and white splashed upon the canvas. The title card says it’s supposed to be a cherry festival in Michigan, but he thinks it looks more like a bloodbath.

"It’s _festive_ ,” Scott argues, feeling somewhat churlish. She’s the one who told him he needed to wear a suit to her law office’s fancy dinner party event thing tonight so that he would fit in while she schmoozes the higher-ups at her office. And when she’d said it was being held at an art gallery he’d assumed that meant a tie would be mandatory. It’s not his fault Hannah spit up on the first one he’d chosen (a simple grey silk tie that he knows she would have liked and approved of). That’s just the perils of parenthood.

“Christmas was a month ago. Here – let me just –“ Tessa reaches up and makes quick work of the bow tie, sliding it out from his collar faster than he can blink and shoving it into his pocket before undoing a few buttons at the top of his shirt. “There. That’s so much better.”

“Do you want me to start sending you pictures of my outfits before we go anywhere? Maybe that would be easier.” He rolls his eyes and adjusts his collar so that it’s sitting more comfortably, jerking his head for approval and letting it rest when she nods to confirm that it looks alright.

"Or just hire a stylist. Honestly, Scott, you can afford it. You don’t have to wear the same five t-shirts all the time.”

“Why would I hire somebody when I have you?” He grins and Tessa shakes her head, rolling her eyes in amused exasperation – as if he doesn’t know she secretly loves playing stylist. In some alternate universe her career would have been in fashion and she’d be the one designing all of his clothes instead of criticizing them.

He’d never tell anyone this, and he swore Tessa to an oath of secrecy punishable by death years ago, but when they were little he used to let her have free rein of his closet and dress him up in whatever ridiculous outfits she wanted.

The memory makes him smile, unlike the next piece of art they come across. “Okay, now this one I really don’t get.”

When they’d arrived at the Arta Gallery downtown Scott had been excited. It was a new venue for them, the kind of place he doesn’t get to visit very often, and he’d been looking forward to seeing all the art on display.

That excitement had quickly faded when he realized it was all _modern_ art and none of it made any sense.

"The reindeer painting?” Tessa tilts her head, taking in the simple herd of brown deer against a background of white. Arguably the best painting in here based solely on the fact that it’s the only one that makes any sort of sense and is actually recognizable.

“No,” Scott shakes his head, gesturing to the piece of furniture in front of it, “The chair. If that can even be called a chair. What’s it made out of? Garbage?”

It really is the most hideous chair he’s ever seen. Every color known to man in strange, oblong shapes with random bits thrown in that look like barbed wire. It can’t possibly be comfortable to sit in, let alone nice to look at. It can’t even pass as a feasible accent chair.

“I think it’s a bunch of random strips of leather.” Tessa leans down to get a closer look at it, scrunching up her nose in the process. “Maybe thin purse straps?”

“It’s ridiculous. They’ve taken a perfectly good object and rendered it totally useless.”

“The point of modern art is to challenge your preconceived notions of what art is supposed to be,” Tessa says, speaking as if she’s reciting an informational blip from the brochure, and Scott rolls his eyes.

“Thank you, Jackson Pollock, but I think chairs are supposed to be used for sitting.”

Tessa straightens and taps her chin with her finger, “Maybe it’s supposed to be a metaphor. Like the human race requiring leather, or cows, for consumption and… um… support? But ultimately it’s a flawed economic plan that can’t last?”

“You’re reaching,” Scott laughs, “I think some random guy woke up one day, threw some scraps together that he picked up from off the floor, and decided to call it art, and the general public fell for it. It’s no different than slapping paint on a canvas and selling it for millions of dollars. Modern art is a scam.”

“Or it’s symbolic of how we feel bound to our sedentary lifestyles.” She tosses back, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

“Speak for yourself. I get a lot of exercise, and I declare this piece of ‘art’,” He makes air-quotes with his fingers, “A piece of crap.”

“Okay, well what about this one?” Tessa points at the sculpture resting on a pedestal in the corner, and Scott looks at the headless black stone cutout of a female body with its V-shaped gap between the legs and giant green stone circle on one breast and snorts.

"I think she should get a mammogram. That can’t be natural.”

A round of giggles bursts out of Tessa’s mouth, making her shoulders shake as she smothers the noise with her hand, and Scott smirks. He may think all this art is crappy and he might prefer to be at home right now with his daughter watching the Raptors game, but he can’t deny that he enjoys walking around the gallery with Tessa making her laugh.

“Scott Moir!” A portly man with thinning grey hair and wide-rimmed glasses makes his way over through the small crowd, grabbing two champagne flutes off a passing tray as he does and handing them to Scott and Tessa once he’s joined them. “It’s good to see you again. We’re so glad that you could make it.”

“It’s nice to see you too, Mr. Schmidt,” Scott greets the man with a friendly smile. Out of all of the partners at Tessa’s law firm, this one is his favorite. “Tessa tells me you’re in the process of acquiring another firm.”

Mr. Schmidt grins like a Cheshire cat and pats his waistcoat, fingering the gold chain that cuts across from the buttons to his pocket. “Yes, indeed! Skadden, Arps, & Flom – a ridiculously named company, but successful all the same. This party tonight is to introduce ourselves to all of their big clients and hopefully impress them a little bit. It doesn’t hurt to have you here on our side, either.”

Scott’s not sure what ‘on their side’ is supposed to mean, considering he doesn’t work for them or employ their services. The only _side_ he’s on is Tessa’s and it’s her he’s come to support, but if it makes the old man happy and earns Tessa brownie points with her boss, then he’ll play along.

“Well, I’m definitely glad that Tessa invited me. Let me wish you congratulations.”

“Thank you. And congratulations to you as well on being picked for the Olympic team again. I know I speak for a great deal of people when I say we were all very excited to see your name on the roster.”

_Ah, hockey talk. And it only took them a minute to get there_ , Scott thinks with a private little smirk.

“Thank you, sir. Not as excited as I was. And thank you for letting Tessa have the time off to come to Pyeongchang with me next month. I really appreciate it.” Scott rushes to add, making sure to emphasize the word _really_ in the last sentence. It’s imperative the man doesn’t change his mind and prevent Tessa from coming to the Olympics with him. That would be an unmitigated disaster. 

“Not a problem,” Mr. Schmidt says with a wave of his hand, “It’s not every year your boyfriend gets to go to the biggest sporting event in the world.” He turns towards Tessa with a twinkle in his eyes, “You must be very proud of him. Can we expect an engagement in Korea?”

“Mr. Schmidt,” Tessa’s voice is sharp, her face flushing crimson as she splutters out her reply – nearly choking on the champagne she’d just swallowed, “As I’ve mentioned before –“

“Probably not,” Scott cuts in with a wink before she can say anything further and accidentally jeopardize something, “But who knows what can happen under the influence of that post-win adrenaline, eh?”

“Confidence!” Mr. Schmidt laughs, “I like it! Well, I won’t keep you too any longer. Business, you know. Scott,” He thrusts out his hand for a handshake, and Scott quickly takes it, “I hope to see you around more often. You take good care of yourself and bring us back that gold medal. Prove that Canada really is the best in the world.”

"I’ll do my best, sir.”

Tessa waits exactly until Mr. Schmidt is engaged in another conversation and not a moment longer before rounding on Scott with her hands on her hips and an accusatory glare. “What the hell?”

“Tess,” Scott rushes to explain, “The only reason he’s giving you so much time off is because he likes me and thinks we’re dating and that you’re my lucky charm.”

“Why would he think that!?”

“Because that’s what I told him.”

“ _What!?_ ”

He winces and takes a step backwards. Okay, so maybe it was wrong of him, but at the time it had seemed like a brilliant idea. What was wrong with one little lie if it got them both something they wanted? The way he saw it, they were just using the rumors that already existed to their advantage.

“Four years ago you couldn’t get work off for Sochi and it fucking _sucked_ not having you there. I didn’t want to risk that happening again this time, so I may have made a call and fibbed a little. You know there’s nothing Mr. Schmidt cares about more than our national hockey team.”

“Scott, now my whole office is going to think we’re dating.” She sighs, folding her arms over her chest and squeezing her ribs like she’s attempting a one-woman hug, and Scott feels a pang of guilt. He probably should have gotten the okay from her before unwittingly roping her into some fake-dating storyline.

“I should have asked for your permission first, but honestly they’ve thought that for years so I figured it wouldn’t be a big deal. You can tell them we broke up _after_ you cheer me on to gold in Korea.”

“How could they have thought that?” Tessa huffs out a disbelieving laugh, “Last year you came to the Christmas party with me and went home with Maren in Accounting. Don’t do that again, by the way, she spent _months_ bugging me for answers about why you hadn’t called her. If I can’t date your coworkers, you can’t date mine.”

“Sorry.” He winces. She has a point there. That had been a huge mistake and he’d had to buy Tessa a year’s supply of ice cream to make up for it. “But I need you by my side in Pyeongchang, Tess. Can you blame me for making that happen however I could?”

Tessa sighs again, still annoyed, but loosens her stance and offers him a wry smile so that he knows he’s forgiven. “You’re such a pain in my ass.”

“For sure. But are you mad?”

“No, I’m not mad.”

A slow grin spreads across his face, growing wider when he catches Tessa biting the inside of her cheek to try and stop herself from smiling, too. “So you’ll come?”

“Of course I’ll come. But you’re paying for my hotel. And I want a nice suite – not some dumpy place that I have to share with your cousins like in Vancouver.”

“Of course! A glamorous private suite you shall have. Only the best for my girlfriend.” He winks and throws an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side for a one-armed hug. Tessa shoves him away at first, but then quickly gives in – allowing him to kiss the side of her head, too.

“Damn right.”

As soon as he lets her go she’s drawn away by one of the other paralegals to talk to one of their new clients, and Scott’s left to wander the art gallery by himself for a little while – which isn’t nearly as fun without her.

He stands by his pronouncement earlier regarding modern art, and without the avenue of humor and mockery available to him, he’s left only with disgust as each indecipherable painting and sculpture becomes uglier and uglier the further down the wall he goes. 

Near the statue of something Scott can only assume is a bloated turquoise cow stands a man he recognizes as Tessa’s coworker Morris (of the ill-fated prank fame) talking to another man he doesn’t know - probably Sketch’s replacement, poor guy – loud enough for him to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“This custody battle between the Pearsons might get ugly.” Morris swirls the amber liquid in his glass around before swallowing it and gesturing to a passing waiter for another.

“It doesn’t have to if the wife would just agree to a fifty/fifty split.” The other man grumbles, clearly irritated with the people in question and the lawsuit. Scott would almost say he sounds _bored_ of it all, which seems like exactly the kind of attitude you _wouldn’t_ want your lawyer to have. “They should just pull up the Custody X Change software and take care of it themselves instead of wasting our time.”

Yeah, definitely not the lawyer Scott wants. He makes a mental note to talk to Tessa about him later. If he’s made this kind of impression in two minutes, he can’t imagine what she must think of him.

“But she never will agree to that,” Morris argues, “She wants full-custody and the judge might give it to her.”

“Why? The husband still wants to be involved. That should be good enough for joint custody on his part.”

“Her lawyer is arguing that because she’s remarried she can provide a more stable home environment for the children. Using the old two parents are better than one argument. It might be enough to grant her sole custody.”

“That’s bullshit,” The other man snorts, “It’ll never hold up in court.”

“These things always sway in the mother’s direction. The dad will probably get joint if he fights for it, but he won’t get sole. The judge will see it her way.”

Morris’s casual pronouncement makes Scott’s blood run cold, and he forgets to pretend that he wasn’t eavesdropping. It hadn’t occurred to him to consider the finer points of Ontario’s custody laws after talking to Whitney in October – an oversight that makes him feel moronic and severely unprepared now.

“Is that true?” He cuts in, surprising both of the men as well as himself.

“Yeah,” Morris nods solemnly, “Generally courts find in favor of the mother in custody decisions. It’s not always fair, but that’s just the way things have been.”

“What if the child’s been living with the dad,” Scott asks, desperation leaking into his voice, “And the mom comes in and decides she wants her back?”

“I don’t know… that would be complicated. There would be a lot of factors at play. How long has the child been with the dad, the child’s age, the parent’s situation. It would be a complex case, but she’d probably get granted joint custody if she was of sound mind and seemed capable.”

Fuck. Why the hell hadn’t he thought of that? The possibility of losing Hannah, even only partially, makes him feel like he’s being flayed from the inside out. Sure, she was totally unexpected and flipped his life upside down, and yeah, maybe he’s only had her for four months, but she’s _his_.

“Would it help if the dad was remarried? I mean… does that make him look better to the judge?”

“It doesn’t hurt.” Morris shrugs and he and his awful friend head off in search of more booze or better conversation, clearly unimpressed by the sudden demand for information from a hockey player, and Scott lets them go – too stunned and preoccupied to stop them and ask any more questions.

He hasn’t heard anything from Whitney. Not a peep since he confronted her at her apartment last autumn. And it never occurred to him that she might finish her studies and decide she does want to be a mom after all. But now that it has, the fear that she might succeed in her endeavor to regain custody, should she decide that’s what she wants, suddenly sits at the forefront of his mind.

Maybe his decision to forgo sex and dating was the wrong one (it’s certainly messed with his head more than he’d anticipated – especially in regards to Tessa). Maybe what he should be focusing on is finding a permanent partner. Someone who he can love, who would be a good mother to Hannah, and who would provide a more stable home life for his daughter in the advent his baby mama returns one day and tries to steal her away.

Maybe after he gets back from the Olympics he’ll try dating again. Serious options only, this time. Somewhere in Toronto there must be a woman who’s right for him and his daughter. He just needs to start looking. 


	9. but it's golden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pyeongchang 2018!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: This chapter earns its rating.

** but it’s golden **

****

The audience is overpowering. Their screams a cacophony of white noise that feels impossible to drown out, invading his brain and making it hard to think. The ice, ever his friend and ally, feels foreign to him now as his thighs burn – struggling to get him where he needs to be.

He’s exhausted in a way he never has been before. Weeks of hard training in Riga followed by increasingly hard-fought games against formidable international opponents (not to mention dealing with basic struggles like adjusting to the time difference) have left him depleted, and this German team they’re facing tonight is the hardest yet. He knew they would be tough, but he honestly hadn’t expected it to be _this_ tough. Chalk it up to his own fatal hubris.

Down three to zero early in the second period, Scott and his teammates have had to work some serious magic to make the score even again and his body is paying the price. He’s not sure he’s ever sweat so much in his entire life and his lungs are on fire while his heart is thumping away in his chest like a sledgehammer. If he makes it out of this without a heart attack, it'll be a miracle.

And tonight’s just the semi-finals. If they manage to win this game they’ll have an even harder one to play in two days against either the Czech Republic or the Olympic Athletes from Russia. Both talented teams that he’s never had to face in the play-off round of an Olympic Games before. Each one eager to prove themselves in an international arena, especially against a Canadian team that’s trying for its tenth title.

But he can’t think about that right now. He has to focus on the team currently on the ice before he can even begin to think about the final on Sunday.

_One game at a time, Moir_ , he mentally berates himself, following the puck closely as the Germans take another swipe at their goal – barely missing the target, the puck going wide by only a few inches.

Scott spots his chance a short time later. The giant red numbers of the clock are running down faster than he can comprehend – one minute left, fifty-three seconds left, forty-seven seconds – and he takes his chance, weaving in and out of the gigantic German defense line that seems to be doubling in size before his very eyes, dodging bodychecks from men who could take down dragons, until all that’s left is their goaltender, Danny aus den Birken.

He lines up his shot, swings his stick, and _WHAM_! He’s swept off his feet by Christian Ehrhoff and sent flying into the boards – his head hitting the tempered glass with a resounding crack.

Scott shoots up off the couch that he’d been sleeping on in a haze of fear and panic, desperately looking around the unfamiliar room for some answers as to where he is. It’s a large space done up in varying shades of brown and beige with balcony views over the nearby snowy mountain range, the TV across from him is playing some kid’s show in Korean, and Scott’s heart rate starts to return to normal as he begins to recognize the room.

The InterContinental Alpensia Pyeongchang Resort. The place he’d booked for his whole family so that they’d be comfortable while watching him play in Korea. And this is the big, fancy suite he’d booked for Tessa, just like he’d promised he would when he convinced her to take two weeks off of work and fly halfway around the world with him.

Scott tugs his constricting hoodie, too hot and damp now, over his head and tosses it aside before falling back onto the couch cushions in a heap. Hannah looks over at him curiously from her spot on a blanket on the floor, happily playing with her toys and enjoying whatever the show is – even if she can’t possibly understand the language. Although what does he know, she’s not exactly speaking English yet other than gibberish oohs and aahs and gurgles – maybe babies have a universal understanding of language that gets taught out of them by their monolinguistic parents.

“You’re awake!” Tessa sweeps into the room with a tray of fruit and croissants and jars of what he assumes are various flavors of jam, almost making him jump in surprise. His nerves are frayed and he feels all jumpy and skittish. The team is supposed to be taking the day to rest and recuperate before the final tomorrow, but all he wants is to go for a long, hard run.

“I didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep. I’m sorry.” Scott rubs his eyes with both hands, desperately trying to banish the dream he’d been having and the last vestiges of imagined pain and defeat. It’s not exactly the mood he wants to carry with him into tomorrow’s game.

They _had_ played Germany last night in the semi-finals, and it had been a desperately fought game, but Marleau had managed to snag a fourth point right before the final buzzer, breaking the tie and giving Canada the win they needed to advance to the finals against Russia. And Scott had _not_ been pulverized by their team captain at the end – thank god.

A nightmare. Just a simple, everyday nightmare. Yet he can’t seem to shake the sense of foreboding that still lingers inside his limbs, making him feel heavy with dread.

"I thought you might want something to eat when you woke up from your nap.” Tessa sets the tray down on the coffee table in front of him, selecting a few of the best looking pieces of fruit to put in a small bowl before handing it over. “Are you alright?”

The fruit is delicious, cool and sweet on his tongue and helping ease the ache in his stomach (which he’d assumed was due to nerves but apparently may also have been a result of him not eating much in the past few days), and Scott takes a moment to savor each bite before answering her as casually as he can. “Just a bad dream.”

“About tomorrow?” Tessa tenderly brushes a few strands of his hair away from his forehead, her face full of concern. It must be gross, all sweaty from his panic-nap, but that doesn’t seem to stop her, and Scott leans in slightly to her touch. Hoping to glean some comfort and security from it.

“Sort of,” He admits, reaching for one of the croissants and tearing off a piece, “I’m just nervous, I guess.”

He shrugs one shoulder, trying to act nonchalant and brush off her obvious concern. This isn’t his first Olympic final. It’s not even his second. He shouldn’t be as panicked about it as he is, but he can’t seem to shake the feeling that something bad is going to happen tomorrow. Like he’s on a one-way track to messing up in a big way and there’s nothing he can do to prevent it.

"It’s natural to be nervous before a big game.” Tessa squeezes his shoulder and grabs one of the croissants for herself. A pain au chocolate, of course, he recognizes with a small smile. Her favorite. “You wouldn’t be human if you weren’t.”

“I don’t want to be human,” He grumbles petulantly, “ I want to be Wayne Gretzky and lead my team to victory.”

She laughs and shakes her head, not dignifying his childishness with an answer. Instead she pushes the tray of food towards him before getting up and walking away, heading in the direction of her bedroom – the one across from the one he’d claimed for himself and Hannah (although he’s spent most nights in the Olympic Village with his team) – and comes back out holding her thickest winter coat and snow boots.

“You know what you need, Moir?” She grins. “A distraction.”

“Oh yeah?" He swallows the piece of bread he'd been chewing and sits up a little straighter, perking up at her suggestion. "What kind of distraction?”

“We’re going out. We’re going to see some of this amazing place we’ve been given the opportunity to visit, we’re going to sample some of the local cuisine, and we’re going to forget that there’s an Olympic Games going on and pretend we’re two people on a normal vacation.”

"We are?”

“Yes. Get your coat.”

“A trout festival, Virtch, really?” Scott looks at the sight in front of them with no small amount of skepticism. He likes seafood, sure, but he’s never felt a burning desire to attend a festival about it. Although apparently he’s the only person who feels that way in Pyeongchang, because the area is packed with people smiling and laughing, milling about and visiting food stands or lining up to take their turn sledding or racing go-karts across the snow. Families spending time together clearly having a blast partaking in this local tradition. The atmosphere is very different from the high tensions in the Olympic Village. 

The area is huge with enough space for sledding hills, go-kart tracks, ATV rides, vendors, and, of course, fishing. The ice itself is covered with neat rows of yellow, red, green, black and blue tents, each one open on one side to leave room for their owners to drill holes down into the water and wait to catch a swimming trout or two, moving deep below the thick ice.

"A trout festival,” Tessa confirms, “We’re embracing the local culture today. Come on, let’s see if we can rent some equipment.”

“You can’t be serious.”

But apparently she is serious, because she physically drags him by the hand towards a booth with a paper sign in English offering rudimentary rods and lures to use and hands over a wad of South Korean won to the person at the table – accepting the equipment the old man hands her with a friendly smile and a respectful nod.

“Kamsahamnida,” She thanks him in Korean and Scott smothers his smirk. Of course while he’s been off worrying about a stick and a puck and a 180 centimeter-wide net, she’s been brushing up on the local language. He wouldn’t expect anything less.

“You’re going native on me, Virtch,” He teases, bumping her side with his elbow, “Are you going to abandon me after tomorrow and move to South Korea? Take up a career of ice fishing?”

Tessa’s cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink as she elbows him back and sticks out her tongue, “Just because some of us like to make an effort and expand our vocabulary, doesn’t mean I’m abandoning you. We can’t all get away with saying yeehaw to everything.”

“Ouch!” He throws his hand over his heart – well, he throws it over Hannah’s heart since she’s currently in the way – and pretends to be offended. “Don’t knock the yeehaw.”

“You can take the boy out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the boy,” Tessa mutters under her breath, leading him out onto the ice in search of a vacant hole they can use.

“What was that?” He asks cheerily, pretending not to have heard her, and Tessa shakes her head and pastes an overly-innocent smile on her face.

“Nothing!”

Trout fishing, it seems, is a lot harder than he’d expected. When he saw everyone else dipping their fishing lines in small holes and wiggling them about a bit until they caught a fish, it seemed really easy. Laughably easy, if he’s being honest. But he just can’t seem to get the hang of it. No matter how much he wiggles his lure, nothing seems to take the bait.

Nearby a duo of little girls, their dark hair tied up in pigtails with pink ribbons, shout happily as they hold up their prize – the second fish the girls have caught in the last twenty minutes. Their excited stream of Korean carrying over the ice as if directly mocking the man and baby struggling so close to them.

“This is laughable, Han,” Scott mutters to the sleeping little girl strapped to his chest, dropping a kiss to the thick winter hat on top of her head, “Your dad was not meant to be a fisherman.”

He's about five seconds away from marching over there and asking the girls what their secret is. 

“Scott!” Tessa shouts, distracting him from his frustration and the rather stupid idea he'd been forming to shove his hand through the hole and hope for the best, “I think I caught one!”

He drops his line to run over to where she's reeling in her short string as quickly as she can, struggling as it bounces around violently underwater, and sure enough – there on the end is a rather impressively sized trout. The dark grey fish flopping around on the ice like it’s made out of rubber while Tessa claps her mitten-clad hands together and claps at her victory.

“Wow, T! That’s awesome!” At least one of them can be relied upon to catch their dinner if they get caught in a zombie apocalypse or something someday.

“I can’t believe I did it! What do I do now?” She hops out of the way as the fish flops towards her feet, and Scott laughs at the way her eyes have gone wide at the scaly creature.

“It’s not gonna hurt you,” He snorts, earning a fierce shove and a glare.

“I know that, but we have to do something with it.”

They look around at what everyone else is doing, hoping to glean some answers from a local expert or two, and their mouths drop open in shared horror as they watch a man pick up his fish and whack it hard against the ice, instantly killing it.

“No,” Tessa states emphatically, “Absolutely not.”

“You can’t bring it back to the hotel and keep it in the bathtub, Virtch, this isn’t _Gilmore Girls_.” He remembers that episode, back when they were teenagers and Tessa made him watch that show with her every Thursday night in return for watching _Friends_ with him, and how Tessa had sympathized with the mom when she’d been unable to kill her fish and instead named them and kept them in the tub upstairs.

“I know that,” She frowns, gnawing on her bottom lip a little as they watch the fish flounder. Then, in the blink of an eye, Tessa scoops it up and deposits it back in the hole in the ice. “There. Hopefully it learned its lesson and won’t be tricked by anyone else’s bait. Swim free, little JT.”

"JT?” Scott snorts, almost choking on the laughter that bursts out of him at the cute way Tessa says the fish's new name. “You named your fish after Justin Timberlake? I thought that crush died like sixteen years ago.”

“ _No_ ,” Tessa scrunches up her nose, watching the ice carefully - as if she can somehow see little JT’s trajectory through it, “JT as in Justin Trudeau.”

Scott scrunches up his face as he laughs even harder, jostling Hannah and waking her up from her nap. “I’m sure our prime minister will be thrilled to know you named a fish after him.”

“I was being patriotic!” Tessa pushes him again and starts walking away, shoving her hands underneath her armpits and huddling against the wind that had picked up in the last few minutes – adding an extra bite to the already sub-freezing temperatures.

“Wait, T, wait!” He calls after her, holding tightly onto Hannah so that she doesn’t bounce around too much in her carrier while he jogs to catch up to Tessa - looping his arm around her shoulders despite her halfhearted protest and tucking her into his side to help keep her warm, “I’m serious. I think he’d be honored to have a trout for a namesake.”

“I hate you,” She grumbles, turning her face into his chest to protect her nose from becoming any redder.

“You love me,” Scott shoots back in a sing-sing voice, “Let’s leave these fish to swim free and go get some food.”

It’s amazing what a little ice fishing will do. It never would have occurred to him to attend a trout festival right in the middle of some of the biggest games of his career. Left to his own devices he’s sure he would have worn himself out in the gym and ended up over-working his body to the point that he couldn’t perform tomorrow – fueled by the desperate need to drive the stress and anxiety from his mind. But Tessa had accomplished that by simply getting him out of the hotel and distracting him, somehow knowing what he needed when he himself did not. He hasn’t thought about hockey at all for the past couple of hours, and he could almost kiss her in gratitude.

“You’re the best, Tess,” He says suddenly, the words needing to be spoken out loud, “The best friend a guy could ever have and a total genius. Everybody should have a Tessa!”

“Oh, stop,” She blushes and ducks her head, “I didn’t even do anything.”

“You stopped me from going crazy today, that’s definitely something.” He gives her the tightest hug he can manage with one arm as they get in line for some food, going so far as to press a kiss against her temple. “Seriously – I don’t think you understand just how important you are to me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Probably dress Hannah in Leafs jerseys every day and forget how to tie your own shoes,” She teases, attempting to rebuff his compliments - ever uncomfortable with direct praise. But he won’t let her get away with it this time. If they win gold tomorrow, it’ll be a direct result of her influence. The two of them are a team, whether she's wearing skates or not. 

“Tessa Virtue,” He chuckles, shaking his head, “Would you let someone tell you how amazing you are for just one second?”

She rolls her eyes and waves him off, gesturing towards one of the food stalls, “How about you pay for my meal instead?”

“Fine,” He sighs dramatically, “What do you want?”

It’s probably safe to assume that grilled trout is off the menu.

“Bibimbap!” Tessa replies happily, bouncing on her toes and doing a little dance and popping her lips emphatically on the P. He should have expected that. She’s eaten bibimbap at least once a day since they arrived and she discovered the local dish.

“I’m going to have to learn how to make this when we get home, aren’t I?” He pretends to be resigned to his fate, but a small smile plays at the corner of his mouth. He’s already making a mental note to pick up a Korean cookbook before they leave the country. Maybe with some practice he’ll be able to surprise her with a full meal for her birthday.

“What makes you think I won’t be the one to learn it when we get home, eh?” Tessa puts both hands on her hips and cocks her head at him, arching one of her eyebrows.

Scott tries not to laugh, he really does, but they both know that won’t be happening.

“Unless after twenty years of burnt or undercooked food you’ve developed some secret kitchen skills without me knowing, I highly doubt it.”

“Rude!”

“True!” He shoots back with a grin, and Tessa promptly swats him on the arm in retaliation. Although the effect is somewhat dampened by the thick layers he’s wearing and the inability of mittens to be threatening in any context.

“I’m ordering double now,” She warns, “And some yakgwa.”

“Is that those little honey pastry things you brought me last week?” He asks excitedly, glancing back at the menu for where he missed them, “We’re definitely getting a double order of those, too.”

By the time they get back to the hotel their stomachs are full, their hearts are happy, Tessa's hair is a little damp from the snowball he'd thrown at her, and Scott feels like he can kiss Hannah goodbye and hug Tessa with a sense of ease and confidence that he hadn’t felt when the day started. 

Bring on the game against Russia. He’s ready.

****

For the third time in Winter Olympic history, the gold medal game is in overtime.

They’d finished the third period tied three to three, the Russians getting in a chance shot with only fifty seconds left on the clock and bringing them even right before the buzzer – thwarting Canada from their win at the last second.

It had been a neck-and-neck game, each team swapping goals throughout its entirety and fighting tooth and nail for each inch of the ice, and now Scott can feel the pressure, just like in his dream the day before. It’s as if the arena is a bottle of champagne, shaken up so vigorously that it will explode at even the slightest twist of the cap. Ready to go off.

But will the explosion be for Russia or Canada?

The stakes are higher than normal during overtime. They don’t get a chance to score if Russia gets a goal first. The second that puck is in the net, it’s over. Which means there is absolutely no room for error. 

Barely a minute in Canada’s defense slips up and number seventy-one on the Russian team makes a dive for the puck, sliding on his stomach with his stick outstretched to hit the puck towards the goal, and Scott watches with baited breath as it almost – but no, it rebounds off the side post and goes flying away, and there’s an audible gasp of relief from one of his teammates. If God ever cared about hockey, he must be helping them out right now. 

He spares a second to look up in the stands, finding his family, Tessa, and Hannah immediately – an easy feat after gleaning encouragement from them periodically throughout the game. (Except when he got that penalty and had to sit in the box and Russia scored during the power play - he couldn't bear to look at them then.) They’re all wearing bright red team Canada jerseys with his name and number emblazoned on the back, and it’s all the bolstering he needs.

_Do it for Canada. Do it for them._

This is an all-out battle to the death now.

Russia is playing no-holds barred, each one of their players taking to the ice with a vengeance that’s almost frightening to witness, let alone be on the receiving end of, and Scott nearly gets his arm taken off multiple times by people trying to steal the puck away from him. John Tavares gets a bloody nose when his shot pings off the top of the crossbar and a Russian _accidentally_ hits him while trying to get the rebound. Duncan Keith has to be taken off the ice with a dislocated shoulder. Tyler Seguin sprains his ankle, but refuses to be taken off the ice until the game is finished (that'll earn him free beers for at least a year back home).

It’s a veritable bloodbath, and it has to end.

Scott sees his chance when one of the Russian players hits the puck back towards his own goal, attempting to pass to his teammate, and Scott shoots off as fast as his skates will take him – determined to beat the other guy and hopefully face the goalie Bobrovsky alone.

He flies across the ice and dives for the puck, colliding with the defender and scuffling over the little black disk, but Bobrovsky's skated up as well and Scott can do nothing to dodge the hit when the goalie dives into him, sending him sprawling across the ice.

The hot iron taste of blood fills his mouth along with the certainty that he’s missed his chance, but Scott looks up to see the puck gliding across the ice alongside the defender’s stick that must have come loose somehow in the three-man collision, and everything seems to move in slow motion.

Pushing himself up off the ice just enough to reach out, Scott flicks his stick against the puck – sending it careening towards the empty goal where it hits the back of the net just to the left of the side post.

The screams are deafening as the team ambushes him – the audience erupting louder than he’s ever heard it before – and Scott’s so stunned he can hardly believe it. Even the announcers screaming _goal!_ over the PA system at the top of their lungs isn’t enough to convince him that the game is actually over.

It isn’t until his Leafs teammate Marleau grabs him by the neck, pulls him in for a bone-crushing hug, and says, “You did it, kid! We won the gold!” That it finally settles in.

They won.

They _won!_

A quick check by their team physician determines that his busted lip won’t require stitches, just some TLC for the next few days, and Scott’s back on the ice for the ceremony with his teammates. Tearing up as O Canada rings out proud and beautiful over the arena, their gorgeous red and white flag rising high above them, right in the middle where it should be - between Germany and the flag for the Olympic Athletes from Russia.

It’s the best moment of his life.

As soon as the anthem is over he exits the ice to find his family. There will be plenty of time to celebrate with Team Canada at the after party – right now he’d rather be in the middle of a giant family group hug than a bunch of sweaty men.

“We’re so proud of you, honey!” The first words out of his mother’s mouth make Scott beam with pride, and he picks her up and swings her around – planting a wet, smacking kiss on her cheek that makes her face scrunch up as she laughs and wipes it away.

“Thanks, Ma! Thank you for being here and supporting me.”

“We wouldn’t have missed it for the world, son,” His dad hugs him next, and Scott finds himself inexplicably tearing up again – evidence he wipes away quickly before his brothers can spot it and give him a hard time. Even though he knows Danny and Charlie probably had their own burst of emotion when that puck went in.

A bunch of softies, those Moir boys. 

“I guess we can finally admit you’re our brother now,” Danny teases as he and Charlie hug Scott at the same time, the two of them clapping him on the back with enough force to take his breath away. “Good job, Scotty!”

“Ugh, don’t call me that,” He groans, chafing under the old nickname from childhood, but his brothers simply grin and laugh at him, the script old and familiar.

“Congratulations, Daddy,” Tessa steps up behind them, waving Hannah’s chubby hands around like she’s doing a little cheer – making her break out into a gummy smile and laugh, even as her little red and white striped toque slips over her eyes. “You’ve got one very proud little girl.”

“Did she actually watch any of it?” Scott scoops her up out of Tessa’s arms, tossing her in the air before snuggling her in close and practically smothering her with kisses.

"You know, I think she really did,” Tessa nods, “I tried to point you out to her whenever I could. I’m not sure she fully understood, but she seemed to perk up when I said, ‘there goes your daddy!’”

His heart does a funny little flip inside his chest and Scott pulls Hannah in for another hug. This moment right here made all the blood, sweat, and tears worth it. He was cocky after Vancouver, proud after Sochi, but neither of those compare to the glowing happiness he feels right now.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Tess,” He wraps his free arm around Tessa and pulls her in for the tightest hug he can manage, trying to remember not to accidentally hurt her, but unable to resist gripping her tight.

"I’m so, so proud of you, Scott,” She murmurs into his collar, lips brushing the skin of his neck and making him shiver, “ _So_ proud. You were amazing out there and you deserve this.”

“I never could have done it without you though,” He whispers into her hair, rubbing his hand up and down smooth fabric of her jersey and memorizing the way it feels to have his name spelled out there. It’s _right_ in a way he can’t quite quantify.

“Sure you could have,” She disagrees, quiet but firm, “You’re an amazing hockey player and you work incredibly hard at your job. And nobody cares more about Canada than you do. But… I’m glad you didn’t have to.” She tacks the last bit on at the end with a smile and he huffs out a laugh, finally releasing her from the hug (and resolutely ignoring the way his parents and brothers are eyeing their interaction – shouldn’t they know by now this is just how they are?).

"I promised the guys I’d go to the party in Canada House with them, but I’ll meet you at the hotel after.”

“Sounds like fun!" She grins and pokes him lightly in the ribs, "Don’t worry about us – party as long as you like. Go wild.”

He laughs at the ridiculous little jazz hands she does - as if they somehow represent whatever her definition of _going wild_ is. “I’ll see you later, Virtch.”

She takes Hannah back, the little girl rubbing her eyes like she’s about to fall asleep on the spot, and turns to go.

“Hey, Virtch?” She stops walking to turn around and look back at him, and a slow, playful grin spreads across his face. “Yeehaw!”

Her laughter echoing down the short tunnel towards the foyer is the last thing he hears before she disappears around the corner.

With a pit stop at his dorm in the Village to shower and change into a grey long-sleeved Team Canada shirt and tug a black toque over his head to protect his damp hair from turning into a field of icicles, Scott heads down to Canada House where the party is already raging. With twelve golds, eight silvers, and nine bronze medals to take home for their country, the general spirits are high and celebratory.

On the stage the Arkells are playing a setlist of their most popular songs, somehow having been persuaded to make the journey over from Canada just to help them celebrate the end of a successful Games, and Scott bops his head and dances along to the raucous music as he walks straight over to the bar – picking up his first pint of what he plans to be many beers. Training is over, he won’t be expected at a Leafs game for at least a week after he gets home so that he can rest and recover, and he’s earned the chance to indulge himself a little.

Somehow he gets roped into an impromptu rendition of O Canada with the bobsledders, and at one point he’s pretty sure he loses a wad of cash to a curler when he fails to do a handstand for more than ten seconds – losing to one of the luge athletes in spectacular fashion when the alcohol literally goes to his head and he goes tumbling to the floor, and he loses count of how many beers get handed to him by congratulatory teammates – not to mention the shots he’s persuaded to do with various skiers and snowboarders.

(Nobody told him Mark McMorris could toss ‘em back like that. Shit!)

He’s on his way to being well and truly hammered when one of the pretty blonde alpine skiers saddles up to his side, reminding him of his celibacy oath and all the condoms the IOC had supplied in the same instant.

Her hand lands on his arm soft and warm and inviting, she smells faintly of peaches, and she has very pretty blue eyes. 

If there was ever an excuse to break his vow and get laid, this would be it – right? He’s just won gold, he’s _supposed_ to be celebrating, and, well, what happens in Korea stays in Korea. Or something like that.

“I’m Erin,” She shouts over the noise pressing in on them from all sides. The Arkells are singing something about being relentless and dancing around onstage like they’re almost as drunk as all the athletes, and Scott makes his decision. If she wants to, he’s totally having sex with her.

“Hi Erin, I’m Scott.”

“I know,” She laughs, a pretty sound accompanied by a hair toss and a sparkling smile, and Scott grins. Yeah, everyone gives the Olympics shit about the condoms thing, but it’s definitely necessary. A bunch of people at peak physical condition with way too much adrenaline in their veins? Anyone would succumb to the temptation. “Congratulations on your big win tonight.”

“Thank you! Have you had a good Games? I haven’t had a chance to watch much of the other events.” Hopefully she won’t count it against him that he doesn’t know who she is, but in his defense – there are a _lot_ of athletes here, and he’s been a little busy.

“Not bad,” She shrugs, “You wanna get out of here?”

Erin jerks her head towards the exit and Scott huffs out a surprised laugh, not expecting her to be so bold, but pleased by it all the same. It makes things so much easier if they're both straightforward about what it is they really want.

“I do, yeah,” He nods, taking another sip of his beer, “I’ve just got to go to the hotel nearby and check on my daughter first.”

“Your daughter?” She asks, scrunching up her nose in obvious displeasure, “You’re not married are you?”

“No,” Scott throws his head back with a laugh, “Found a way to get around that part. I just want to make sure she went to bed okay after the game. She’s the best and I love her – do you want to see a picture?”

He fumbles as he pulls out his phone, nearly dropping it a few times as he scrolls past a few team pictures, some shots of Korea, and the latest photos of his trout excursion with Tessa. Clicking on the one with Hannah smiling at the camera, he pulls it up and holds it out to Erin with a huge smile, tapping on the screen a few times with his index finger – as if she needs his guidance to figure out which one out of the three of them is his kid.

“That’s her! Her name is Hannah. Isn't she the prettiest baby you've ever seen?”

“She’s cute,” Erin says slowly, and Scott doesn’t like the frown blossoming on her face. Does she not like kids or something? It might just be a one night stand, but he’s not sure he could sleep with someone who didn’t like kids. “Who’s the woman?”

“Oh, that’s Tessa,” Scott answers easily, finishing off his beer and looking towards the bar, wondering if it’s worth it to grab another before they head out, “She’s the best, too. I love Tessa. Everyone loves Tessa.”

So that’s a no on another beer then. Clearly the alcohol he’s already had is quite enough to have him rambling nonsense like an idiot. This woman couldn’t care less how awesome Tessa is, and he’s learned the hard way over the years that women don’t really like it when he goes off singing praises about her.

"Look, is she your girlfriend or something? Because I don’t hook up with cheaters and –“

"No!” Scott cuts her off with a vigorous shake of his head, “No, no. We’re just friends. Best friends. That’s it. Friendzola. Friendsaroni. Frienda-bo-Brenda. That's us.”

Yep. Definitely no more beer for him. 

Erin arches a skeptical eyebrow, eyeing him like she’s looking for the sign on his face that will give away the lie, but he maintains his innocent expression. After all, it’s the truth. He has nothing to hide and if they _were_ together (which they aren’t because that isn’t a thing they _do)_ he definitely wouldn’t ever cheat on Tessa.

“Okay, I guess I believe you.”

That’s a relief, because ending the night with his hand just doesn’t have the same post-Olympic victory celebration appeal. “So… you still wanna get out of here?”

“Yeah,” She shrugs, the smile from earlier back on her face, if maybe slightly less enthusiastic, “Why not. I’m in room 283. Just knock when you get there.”

“Awesome.”

Scott fumbles with the keycard, first inserting it backwards, then upside down, then both backwards and upside down, before finally managing to get it into the slot correctly and stumbling through the door.

The suite is dark, but the curtains in front of the balcony doors have been left wide open, allowing the glowing lights from the ski hills in the distance to enter the room – casting long shadows across the floor and walls. On the coffee table is a spread of various meats and cheeses and breads and jams – the perfect snack and one that Tessa must have been indulging in earlier – and Scott puts together a selection and shoves it into his mouth, licking his fingers as he heads towards his destination.

The door to Hannah’s room is propped open, a sign that despite Scott’s reassurances that the baby monitor would work fine in Korea, Tessa still hadn’t trusted it completely to alert her if Hannah wakes up, and he smiles as he slips through the crack and finds his daughter in the port-a-crib.

She’s sleeping peacefully on her stomach, legs curled underneath her and bum pushed up high in the air, and Scott laughs quietly to himself at the sight. He can’t imagine how on earth that could be comfortable, but it seems to be her favorite position lately so he hasn’t fought her on it. Maybe she’s training to be a sprinter and this is just her first efforts at the starting position. Or a jockey.

“Hey, baby girl,” He whispers, gently stroking some of her hair away from her face – making sure his movements are slow and soft so that he doesn’t wake her, “We did it. We won! Can you believe your dad managed to pull it off?”

It hasn’t quite sunk in yet. His life has been nothing but living, breathing, and eating hockey for the past month – he’s hardly had a second to _think_ – but he can feel it beginning to settle in his bones.

Scott Moir: Olympic champion and three time gold medalist in ice hockey. It has a nice ring to it.

He’s totally going to be one of those sappy dads who takes pictures of his baby daughter when he gets back to Canada wearing all of his medals, too, even at the risk of her using one as a chew toy. Cutting your teeth on Olympic gold has to be a good omen. 

With two or three (or maybe four) more kisses to the top of her head, Scott slips back out of the room and heads in the opposite direction to search out Tessa. Unsurprisingly, her bedroom door is wide open and she’s sleeping on the side of the bed closest to it, another precaution against a potentially faulty monitor, and the sight makes Scott break out into a dopey grin. He should be heading back to the Village right now, but another minute or two won't hurt. 

He takes a step towards her, but is immediately prevented by a loud clang followed by a slew of curse words as he holds his foot and hops around – issuing profanities that would make his mother swat him over the head with a newspaper if she ever heard them.

Stupid fucking ice bucket.

“Who is it?! Who's there!?” Tessa darts into action, grabbing the book off the nightstand and holding it aloft like a weapon while furiously rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. “What do you want? I’m armed!”

"It’s me, Virtch,” Scott mutters, still holding his injured foot while the icy water from the bucket starts soaking into his other sock and numbing his toes, “Why the fuck is there a bucket of ice water on the floor?”

“Oh,” She lets out a tiny laugh and sets the book down. A paperback copy of _The Shining_ that she picked up in the airport on the way here and at best would have only given a real intruder a bruise. “It was for you.”

"You got me ice?” Scott hobbles over to the edge of the bed and sits down, only to have to immediately stand up again so that Tessa can move her feet out of the way. "Is there a joke in there somewhere that I'm supposed to understand?" 

“I got you _champagne_ ,” She clarifies, “The bottle’s probably rolling around on the floor somewhere now. The ice wasn’t melted earlier when it arrived. I thought you deserved a proper celebration waiting for you whenever you decided to show up.”

“So you put some champagne out to cool and then went to bed?” He laughs at the absurdity of it, but is also touched by the thoughtfulness, too. He's almost tempted to dig out the bottle and pour them both a glass, but he's already in danger of a gnarly hangover tomorrow as it is. They'll have to save it for morning mimosas. 

“No,” Tessa prods him with her toes through the blanket, “I put out the champagne and started to read while I waited for you. I guess I fell asleep.”

Her hand flies up to cover a jaw-cracking yawn and she snuggles further into the blankets, her eyelids growing heavy, and Scott can feel his own exhaustion rising to the surface as he matches her yawn with one of his own. He’d been ignoring it all night (all month, really), but now that the games are over and his job is done, a good night’s sleep doesn’t sound like a half-bad way to celebrate.

Maybe he _is_ getting old.

“I’m sorry. If I’d known I would have come back sooner.” He pulls off his wet socks and climbs onto the bed, crawling across the blanket until he can tug it down enough to slip in behind her. Normally he’d ask for permission first, and really, if he's this tired then he _should_ just go back across the suite and get into the bed that’s actually meant for him, but she looks so warm and cozy and the beer sloshing around in his brain is telling him that sharing with her is an infinitely better choice than an empty, cold bed by himself. 

“That’s alright.” Tessa laughs a little, shifting around to make room for him as he curls around her back. “I’m kind of surprised you came back at all tonight. Were you just in desperate need of a cuddle?”

“Can you blame me?” He jokes, burying his face in the back of her neck and snaking an arm around her waist. “I just need a quick power nap, then I can go back to partying like a true Olympian.”

“And you need to nap with me?”

“You’re so soft, T. Besides, you wouldn’t deny your national hero a nap and a snuggle, would you?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

Scott merely hums and burrows in closer. Somewhere in the back of his head a sober voice is screaming at him that this is too close. That he’s currently straddling a very dangerous line, one he swore to steer clear of, and that he should get out of bed right now and leave the room. But drunk Scott merely shoves a beer in sober Scott’s metaphorical hand and lets a few of his fingers slip underneath Tessa’s soft cotton night shirt to rest above the waistband of her pink pajama pants.

Stupid? Absolutely. But, well, he’s a little drunk and very high off his win and sober Scott can allow him a few liberties right now. It’s not like it’s going to go any further than this. There are two people here in this equation and he highly doubts Tessa has any indecent intentions towards him. 

She sighs and leans back into him a bit, forcing him to move his face from the back of her neck to the crook of her shoulder, and the smell he finds there is intoxicating. The blend of her familiar strawberry shampoo mixed with that coconut and lime lotion that is forever associated in his brain with unintentionally erotic massages making all the synapses in his brain fire at once – an onslaught of mini explosions that wipes all rational thought from his brain.

At least, that will be his excuse later for what he does now.

Her skin is right there smelling like the world’s most enticing fruit buffet, and every impulse in his body is screaming to taste it.

So he does.

Brushing his lips against her, he moves them back and forth and inhales deeply before darting his tongue out to lick just above her collarbone, and Tessa freezes.

Her whole body stiffens against him. He can feel it from the muscles in her back pressed against his chest all the way down to the way her toes clench up around his. The air in the room becomes heavy with uncertainty, an awkwardness descending over them that hasn’t been there since Tessa was nineteen and they were roped into playing a drunken game of Seven Minutes in Heaven that they were entirely too old for and too awkward to adequately navigate.

His fingers clench reflexively underneath her shirt, blunt nails scraping just underneath her bellybutton – thumb clipping the piercing there that she’d gotten when she was thirteen and they were away at a competition in Saskatoon – and Tessa sucks in an audible breath.

But she doesn’t move away.

Somewhere his brain starts to dimly register than unlike that time when she was nineteen and they were stuck in that dark closet together with a room full of young adults just outside the door screaming for them to kiss, this time she isn’t laughing awkwardly and putting as much space between them as possible. If anything, this time she’s moved _closer_.

His brain promptly short-circuits.

He has no idea what the fuck he’s doing when he presses his lips against her skin again, this time with more intention, only that Tessa isn’t stopping him and his fingers have started playing with her piercing of their own accord and based on the little sounds she’s making she seems to like that and he’s half-hard against her ass and _oh fuck_ she’s grinding her hips a little. This can no longer be dismissed as an innocent cuddle between platonic friends. Especially when he nips her earlobe and Tessa reaches behind to grab his ass and squeeze in response.

That line he was straddling is miles behind them now.

Scott slowly starts to move his hand up her stomach towards her breasts, taking her shirt up as he goes and giving her plenty of time to stop him if she wants to, but she surprises him by pushing her chest out a little in invitation, and he swears he stops breathing.

She wants him to touch her. _Fuck_ he’s fifteen again about to touch a girl’s boobs for the first time and he has no idea what to do. What if she doesn’t like his technique? What if she doesn’t like being touched by him at all? He’s never had any complaints, but this is Tessa. It’s not just a whole different ball game, it’s a whole different sport.

He grazes his fingers along the underside of her left breast, letting both of them get used to the feeling of his hand being somewhere it never has been before, then slowly circles his index finger around her nipple before cupping the entire mound in his hand.

Tessa’s breath hitches and everything seems to freeze again as Scott waits for her to shove him away, but then she giggles. A lighthearted, happy little sound that loosens the ball of nerves in his chest and has him chuckling too.

It’s a little weird having his hand up her shirt and his erection nestled against her ass as he works hickeys into her neck and they slowly grind against each other, but it’s a good sort of weird. In fact, he… likes it. Likes it a lot. More than he thought he would (and yeah, he’s man enough to admit now that he’s thought about it before – in that abstract, _what if_ kind of way – and he always knew deep down that if he and Tess ever crossed that line, it would be amazing).

Scott tugs at her nipple, smiling against her when she keens and arches into it. He can practically feel her heart beating out of her chest when he presses his palm to her sternum, her chest rising and falling dramatically as she struggles to control her breathing while he continues his ministrations, and he wonders if she’s close. If she could come just from this.

He’s never made a girl do that before, but suddenly he really wants to try.

"Scott?" She asks suddenly, her voice breaking the silence - almost too loud in the dimly lit room. 

"Yeah?" He holds his breath, waiting for the inevitable rebuff. The _sorry, but I'm just not into you_ that he'd been expecting from the first moment his lips touched her skin. But it doesn't come. 

"How drunk are you?" 

He breathes a sigh of relief and smiles before kissing her neck again, "Not too drunk to know what I'm doing." 

That seems to be enough to reassure her. Before he can blink she’s rolling over to face him, tugging desperately at his shirt, and Scott obliges her by sitting up and pulling it over his head – balling it up and tossing it god knows where before grabbing the hem of Tessa’s shirt and almost tearing it off her in his eagerness.

She’s always beautiful, but right now she’s stunning. Topless and laid out beneath him, dark hair fanning the white pillowcase, her face flushed with arousal and her green eyes staring up at him with blatant trust and affection. It’s a total _rush_. Like every fantasy he never knew he had rolled into one.

“Scott,” She whispers his name again as her hand finds one of his, lacing their fingers together, and he swoops in to press a kiss to the underside of her jaw before working his way down her chest.

“ _Fuck_ ,” He mumbles, capturing one of her nipples and pressing it to the roof of his mouth with his tongue, thrusting against the warmth of her center when she moans and grips his hair in response - only a few thin layers separating them. “I’m glad they’ve been handing out all those condoms to the athletes in the Village all month. I’ve got like ten in my coat right now. Convenient, eh?”

He laughs, expecting her to join in – to be as grateful as he is that the IOC thought to bring over one hundred thousand condoms to these games - but he looks up to find Tessa staring up at the ceiling instead of down at him like he’d expected. She almost looks like she’s frowning, too, but when he props up to get a better look and make sure she’s okay, it’s disappeared - replaced by a smile - and he dismisses it as a trick of the light.

“Mmhmm,” She hums, running her fingers through his hair and scratching the base of his neck, making him shiver against her and his eyelids flutter closed. _God_ was that luck, or has she always known about that spot? The back of his neck is his secret weakness, and he falls back into lavishing attention on her breasts, if only to encourage her to keep scratching and playing with his hair there. 

When he's satisfied that both of her nipples have been adequately adored, he moves lower, wrapping his lips around her bellybutton piercing and giving it a little tug with his teeth in a move that has Tessa gasping and sucking in her stomach, before venturing even lower. One single, enticing destination in mind. 

Scott hooks his fingers in the elastic waistband of her pajama pants, intending to send them flying in the same direction as their shirts. He’s a man on a mission and they are in his _way_. But Tessa stops him by wrapping her hands around his wrists and gently tugging his hands away.

“What’s wrong?” He kisses underneath her bellybutton again before propping his chin there to look up at her (quite enjoying the view), and Tessa shakes her head.

“Nothing. It’s just that you’re the one who just won gold. I should be doing that for you.”

“Don’t be silly, Virtch.”

As if this hasn’t been the subject of his deepest, darkest, most I’ll-deny-it-ever-happened fantasies for over more than a decade. As if she owes him. As if he doesn’t owe her a million times over for her support over the years, especially recently. As if it matters who might owe who when he just really _wants_ to do this.

Scott bends down to start removing her pants again, but she tugs at his wrists more insistently – until he’s forced to leave his position and move back up her body.

“Really, Scott,” She shakes her head, “Let me go first, okay?”

He sighs in disappointment, but holds up his hand to show his acquiescence. If she doesn’t want him to, then the last thing he’d ever do is try to force her. But hopefully as the night continues she’ll lose this self-consciousness that seems to have cropped up in the last few minutes and let him do that for her. 

Tessa wraps her leg around his waist and flips them, making a laugh burst out of Scott’s chest as he lands on his back in surprise and Tessa smirk triumphantly. The sound of his laughter quickly devolves into little moans in the back of his throat though when she starts peppering kisses down his chest, her fingers lightly tickling his ribs as she goes – sending shivers up and down his spine and making his skin break out in goosebumps.

She has his jeans off in a flash, popping the button and carefully unzipping them before tugging them the rest of the way off his legs. Unlike him, she takes the time to neatly fold them before tossing them onto the nearby chair, and Scott laughs affectionately at her.

“Always so considerate,” He teases, tugging on a few strands of her silky hair - wrapping them around his fingers in loose curls before letting them go.

“Some of us have _manners_ ,” She tosses back, swatting his hand away from her hair and removing his boxers next.

It occurs to him then that’s he’s naked. In a bed. With Tessa his Best Friend Forever (as carved into the tree at the back of his parent's property). And Scott freezes for a second. What if she takes one look at him, realizes this is a horrible mistake, and runs away never to be seen again? She hasn’t had as many partners as he has, but hers were all serious boyfriends. Boyfriends who got to know what she liked and didn’t like and who were clearly satisfactory on some level. What if he doesn’t measure up?

He dares to look at her, chancing a glance at her face, and finds her staring at his dick – her tongue darting out briefly to lick her bottom lip.

She’s not revolted then. That’s a relief.

“Everything okay? No surprises, I hope,” He jokes, trying not to let the self-consciousness dampen his erection (not that he thinks that’s possible with Tessa sitting on him topless like she is, but still - he has a good impression to make!).

“You’re bigger than I thought you’d be.” Scott’s eyes find hers in an instant, and she blushes bright red in the moonlight – her eyes going as wide as saucers. “I didn’t mean that!”

“What did you mean?” He snorts, torn between preening under her obvious approval and feeling offended that she’d thought, well, so little of him.

“I just…” She stammers, looking anywhere but at him, “You’re not… exactly… the _tallest_ guy… and I just… assumed… but it’s good!” If possible, her blush seems to darken as it starts spreading down her neck and chest, her embarrassment deepening. Normally he’d jump in and save her, give her an out or turn it into a joke, but he’s not feeling particularly generous at the moment.

“So you think I’m short, and you expected me to have a tiny dick.” He deadpans, resisting the urge to grab one of the pillows and cover himself. "Wow, that's an attractive picture you've painted there. I'm flattered." 

“No!" Tessa almost shouts before quieting her voice back down - although the decreased volume does nothing to decrease the urgency, "Obviously I don’t think that. Your height is perfectly fine. I like that you’re not too tall.”

“Keep on digging that hole, Virtch, I’ll be here all night.”

“Scott,” She groans, covering her eyes with her hands and sinking backwards so that she’s sitting on his knees, “Stop. I’m saying this all wrong. What I meant was I really like your dick, okay?”

That's much better. 

“Yeah?” His hands find her knees and he starts rubbing circles into them with his thumbs. It’s stupid and a side-effect of whatever dumb masculine pride gets embedded into males from puberty and onwards and he knows Tessa doesn’t really think he’s too short or not manly enough, but a little more reassurance from her wouldn’t hurt.

“Yes,” She uncovers her face and nods, although the blush still hasn’t faded, “I was trying to pay you a compliment and it backfired. Spectacularly.”

“I’ll forgive you,” He starts, biting his cheek to keep from smiling when she does, “But only on one condition.”

Her forehead furrows as she presses her eyebrows together, her hopeful smile turning into a tiny frown. “What’s that?”

“You let me go down on you after this.”

“Scott!” Her fading blush bursts back into action and she awkwardly folds her arms over her chest. 

“Those are my terms, Virtch, take ‘em or leave ‘em.”

“You really want to?”

“Yeah,” He grins, “I really do.”

She hesitates, a million thoughts flickering across her face in the span of only a few seconds, before finally nodding her head, “Okay.”

“Awesome,” He links his fingers together underneath his head and wiggles his hips and torso in a happy sort of dance, pleased with his victory and basking in the moment, until he feels Tessa’s small, soft hand wrap around his dick and any thoughts of anything else but her fly completely out of his head.

She explores him with a gusto he’s never seen or experienced before – curiosity written all over her face – occasionally looking up at him to gauge his reactions as she sends him careening towards an explosive, pleasurable end. A twist of her hand here, a swipe of her tongue there, each move executed like he’s a test she’s determined to ace.

And _fuck_ she’s definitely a star student.

Tessa seems to wordlessly understand all his little cues. What moans mean to continue, which whimpers mean to back off a little bit. That when a rumbling groan gets stuck in the back of his throat and his eyes clamp shut as his hands bury themselves in her hair it means he’s about to come.

He tries to warn her – tries to pull her away – but she shakes her head, mouth still full of him, and doubles-down on her efforts, and the sight of her - _there -_ doing _that._ Perfect lips wrapped around his aching cock as her tongue licks the tip. Well, he has no choice but to succumb.

His hips stutter and jerk uncontrollably as Tessa sucks him off, pulling everything out of him until he’s left spent and boneless in a heap on the mattress – gasping for air as his heart races faster than a horse at the Kentucky Derby, his mind full of nothing but exploding stars and white noise. 

“Jesus Christ,” He breaths, holding his hand over his chest for some sort of additional support, “I mean, fucking hell, Tessa.”

“Good?” She asks, flopping down beside him with the smuggest smile he’s ever seen. Normally he’d tease her, engage in some witty banter or quick back and forth that both compliments her work _and_ doesn’t give away just how wrecked he is, but he can’t find the energy for it. She’s literally blown his mind.

They've crossed a serious line and he should probably be freaking out about that and what it means, but he can't seem to think anything much more than the word "wow" on endless repeat. 

One blow job. One. One that's probably going to take him ages to recover from. And he can already say she’s the best he’s ever had. If oral is like _that_ with her, then sex with her might actually kill him.

He’s willing to take that chance.

“Fuck.” Is all he manages to say again, the expletive echoed by her pleased little giggle. The urge to sleep is coming up on him fast, like an unavoidable freight train, and he knows he’s going to have to nap before he can even consider paying her back. It’s mortifying for his stamina, but she should take it as a compliment that she’s just that good. He can't believe he ever even contemplated sleeping with someone else. “That was so much better than hooking up with that other girl.”

The words are slurred and mumbled as Morpheus starts to claim him, the beer and orgasm combining into a potent cocktail that’s quickly sending his brain into hibernation mode, and Scott barely summons up the energy to roll his head towards her and pat her thigh. “Thanks, T. Wake me up in twenty for your turn, ‘kay?”

It’s quiet for a long time, and he distantly thinks that she must have fallen asleep, too, before he hears a quiet, “Okay.”

When he wakes up hours later, the first beams of morning light just starting to creep over the tops of the mountains, he reaches out blindly for her warmth - expecting to find her tucked under the blankets by his side - and he starts drowsily planning exactly how he’ll apologize for sleeping so long and then properly wake her up with the most spectacular orgasm she’s ever had.

But her side of the bed is empty, the sheets cold like it’s been that way for quite some time, and when his eyelids fly open and he sits up in a tangle of bedding, he finds no trace of her. No note, no message waiting on his phone, no light underneath the bathroom door telling him she’d only gotten up to answer the call of nature. The only evidence she was ever there is the stack of clothes piled neatly on the chair.

She’s gone.


	10. loose ends for all things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott's in the doghouse and he doesn't know why. He comes up with a rather unorthodox way to fix it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of this chapter veers into the explicit.

** loose ends for all things **

Tessa is gone.

At first Scott starts to panic, wondering if he’d unintentionally offended her somehow the night before or done something wrong, but she hadn’t said anything to him before he fell asleep. The last thing he remembers is telling her he wanted to return the favor and her agreeing to let him. Unless he said something else that he's forgetting, he can't think of a reason why she'd take off without a word.

If she _is_ upset, then the silent treatment is usually their preferred form of fighting and this shouldn’t be a surprise, but usually she makes sure he knows that she’s giving him the silent treatment first so that she can be certain her punishment is having its full effect. Why go to all that effort if the other person doesn't realize you're ignoring them? But she’d seemed happy last night, so unless he said something in his sleep then everything should be fine.

She probably just happened to wake up before he did and, being prone to restlessness, went for a walk or downstairs to grab an early breakfast.

Satisfied with his conclusion, Scott swings his legs over the side of the bed – pausing for a moment to rub his temples and clamping his mouth shut to hold back the urge to vomit (stupid hangover) - and heads directly towards the closet, just to make sure her suitcase is still stowed inside.

It is, thank god, and he breathes an audible sigh of relief. Her clothes are still in the dresser and her beauty supplies still neatly laid out on the bathroom counter, as well. All of it further confirming his suspicions that he was freaking out over her absence for nothing. She hasn't done something crazy like flee the country. 

With some digging he finds a bottle of Ibuprofen in her make-up bag and Scott pops a few of the small brown pills into his mouth, scooping up water from the faucet with his hand to wash them down before running his wet hand over his face in an attempt to help get rid of his hangover faster. He should have known his diet-controlled Olympic body couldn’t handle that much alcohol all at once. It was a bad idea from the start and it’s a miracle he didn’t make a complete fool of himself or spend the night throwing up in the snow outside. 

A loud cooing noise plays through the monitor, the green lights flashing strong and bright in an arch over the top (he knew it would work in Korea!), letting him know that Hannah is awake, so Scott heads towards her room to say good morning. Finding Tessa will just have to wait a bit longer.

His daughter seems happy to see him, at least, his favorite smile greeting him the moment he walks through the door, and Scott busies himself with getting both of them dressed and looking presentable for the general public. 

(If that means wearing matching red Canada t-shirts and putting a red bow in her hair, well… that can only be expected.)

By the time he makes it downstairs it’s nearing nine-thirty so the dining hall isn’t too crowded, only a few tables filled with other late risers like him, and Scott spots his parents sitting in front of the far window working on large helpings of Korean pancakes, fruit, and eggs. Laughing and chatting and sporting more Team Canada gear, just like he is. They seem really happy, and he can't wait to go over every second of the game last night down to the minutiae with his dad. 

Grabbing one of the high chairs stacked in the corner, Scott makes his way over to them with a smile on his face and a _good morning_ forming on his lips, but he stops the second he realizes that they’re not alone.

Tessa’s with them, picking at her own plate of eggs and looking… wrong somehow. There’s nothing obviously off about her. She’s dressed in one of her typical cute outfits – a long-sleeved floral shirt and some high-waisted jeans - and smiling at something his mom is saying, but her braid isn’t as neatly done as it normally is and something in her eyes just… isn’t there, the absence highlighted by dark circles underneath. She looks tired and guarded and he doesn’t like it.

“Good morning,” He announces his presence to the table with a cheerful smile, once genuine but now forced as he absorbs all the changes in his best friend. Scott sets the high chair down and buckles Hannah inside it – his eyes hardly leaving Tessa’s face while he gets his daughter situated, even though she refuses to look at him.

That is not a good sign.

“Good morning!” His mom stands up to give him a quick peck on the cheek before starting to mash up her strawberries to share with Hannah in tiny bites, a food she tried for the first time three weeks ago and they discovered that she _loves_ , and Scott figures now is as good a time as any to pull Tessa aside and make sure everything is okay.

“Hey, Tess, can I talk to you for a sec?”

“Me?” She looks up at him, then at both of his parents who seem to be totally oblivious to the tension that was just ratcheted up to one-thousand the second they made eye-contact, then back down at the food she’s barely touched. “I’m eating.”

"It’ll just take a second,” He presses, “Please?”

Scott knows he can make dumb choices sometimes, but he’s not an idiot. What they did last night, although relatively mild on the sex act scale, was far from insignificant and they’re going to have to talk about it and what it means for their friendship moving forward.

"Okay.” She neatly wipes her mouth off on a napkin, taking her time with prim little dabs on her lips (though he doubts there’s anything really there), before pushing away from the table and following him as he leads her across the room towards a semi-private alcove by the large stone fireplace. Far away from prying (see: his parents) eyes.

“You weren’t there this morning.” He doesn’t mean to be so straightforward right off the bat or for it to come out sounding like an accusation, but he’d expected her to be there and she wasn’t, and that kind of hurts.

The instant the words are out of his mouth though, her face hardens – her rosy pink lips tilting down at the corners and her eyebrows pinching together to create that little wrinkle that she gets when she’s upset and trying not to show it.

“I wasn’t tired anymore,” Tessa says, folding her arms over her chest and stepping back a bit so that they maintain a respectable distance between them, something they've never needed before, “I got dressed and came down for breakfast. Your parents were here, we got to talking, time just flew by.”

That doesn’t sound like a reason, it sounds like an excuse. If everything was really fine, he’d have expected her to have woken him up or waited for him or turned on the TV and ordered room service, not leave and hang out with his parents. “Are you mad at me?”

She stops fiddling with the end of her sleeve and glances up at him, then fixes her eyes determinedly on the fire as it flickers orange and yellow, flames lapping at the stones. “No.”

“It seems like you are.” He steps closer and lifts his hand to touch her elbow, a touch that's meant to be both grounding and comforting, but Tessa retreats again – nearly stumbling over a chair in her attempt to get away from him.

Scott’s never been stabbed in the gut before, but he’s pretty sure this is exactly what it would feel like.

She seems insistent, though, shaking her head and saying “I’m not,” with added emphasis on the second word. "I'm not, no." 

But he knows when something is bothering her, and it’s even more clear now that they’re going to have to talk about what happened, otherwise they run the risk of last night becoming a big _thing_ between them. An elephant in the room that they’ll have to awkwardly ignore every time they’re together, and that’s just not realistic. Nor is it something he wants to ignore. In fact, the more he thinks about it, the more he wouldn’t mind if they indulged in a repeat of last night (with added activities for Tess, of course).

"Look,” He starts, running his hand through his unkempt hair, “I know last night was new for us and unexpected, but I really think –“

“I don’t think we should talk about last night,” Tessa interrupts him, her voice resolute, shaking her head and holding up her hand between them as if to physically put a stop to his words.

“What?” That’s not at all what he expected her to say and he has no idea how to respond to it.

“I think we should forget what happened.”

He’s speechless. Out of all the possible options he’d dreamed up between last night and this moment, _that_ wasn’t something that had occurred to him. Even if she doesn’t want a repeat of last night like he does, even if she wanted it to be a one-time thing or to write it off as a fluke, he still didn’t expect her to say she wanted to forget it completely. That it meant so little to her. 

Scott can’t hide the hurt he feels, and he knows Tessa can see it written all over his face based on the way her eyes soften a little and her hand twitches by her elbow – as if she wants to reach out to him, but is stopping herself.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” She nods firmly, her words coming out faster and faster as she begins to talk – like she’s afraid if she stops speaking she might forget her argument, “It wasn’t a big deal, right? You were coming off a really huge win and you’d had a lot to drink and I was… well, I was there and it, you know, it felt nice so I let it get carried away when I shouldn’t have. Stuff like this ruins friendships and your friendship means way too much to me to complicate it with these _complications_. And all that really happened was me – you know… doing that thing to you – nothing else. That’s hardly anything. What’s a little oral between friends? Definitely not something to make a fuss over. I mean, we barely even took our clothes off.”

Scott eyes drop to her breasts of their own accord, recreating how they looked last night perfectly from memory, and Tessa flushes bright red when she realizes where he’s looking – only adding to the vividness of the image in his brain. She has a really pretty blush and now he knows from personal experience just how far down it can go.

She may have kept her pajama pants on, but they both know they were far from clothed last night, and a blowjob is definitely more than “hardly anything” in his book. Especially from her.

But her argument is, admittedly, pretty solid. As much as he treasures last night – will treasure it probably for the rest of his life and hold it up as the gold standard of… whatever it was, a one night stand, fooling around, a romp in the sheets, “friendly oral,” – she has a point. Potentially catastrophic complications have been holding him back from pursuing her for years, and those reasons haven’t magically disappeared just because he knows what it feels like when she –

Scott shakes his head to quickly stop that line of thinking. If they’re going to move past this like she obviously wants then he can’t keep picturing her lips around his cock. That wouldn’t be very platonic behavior, and he’s supposed to be a pro at that.

“I guess so,” He speaks slowly, hesitating even as he agrees with her. Something about this doesn’t feel right, but he’s not sure why. This should be an easy decision – they chalk it up to youthful exuberance, shake hands, and continue on with their lives like they always have – and it’s not like there’s any other viable option. Casual sex hardly ever remains casual for long (he's seen _Friends With Benefits_ , so he knows), and that would lead to a whole other host of problems for them. He’s not going to force her to sleep with him again if she doesn’t want to, and her friendship really does matter to him above all else.

“Great! So we’ll just -” Her arms fly out to the side in an overly emphatic shrug, some of the hair coming loose from her braid as she nearly knocks over the nearby house plant, “- move on. No big deal. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

He’s really beginning to hate that word.

“So we’re good?” She looks up at him, her gorgeous green eyes catching the sunlight just right and making him _want_ in a way that is totally off-limits now but he seems to be hyper aware of anyway, and before he can stop himself Scott finds his hand tucking her loose strands of hair behind her ear without his permission.

Tessa visibly jerks away from his touch, something she’s never done before in her whole life, and his stomach fills with lead.

“Yeah, we’re good.”

“Great,” She claps her hands together with a smile that’s more of a grimace and starts moving towards the elevators, “So I’ll see you back in Toronto.”

Toronto? But their flight isn’t scheduled until tomorrow. She must have written the date down wrong on her calendar. “You mean I’ll see you in a few hours after I do my CBC and TSN interviews with the team so that we can head over to the closing ceremonies together.”

“Well… No, actually,” She shifts her weight back and forth between her feet, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, “I’m flying back to Canada today.”

“But I have you signed up as my plus one. We booked our flights together for tomorrow. I don’t understand.”

“I know, but something’s come up at the office. A last minute crisis thing. I have to be back ASAP.”

Nothing about this is making any sense. Why, after two full weeks away, would her boss make her cut her trip short by a single day? Tessa’s good at her job – no, fuck that, she’s the best – but it still doesn’t really make much sense for a paralegal to have to rush back to a law office with tons of employees to help with a new case. She’ll hardly be any use to them jet-lagged and exhausted. As amazing as she is, not even Tessa Virtue can fly half-way around the world and step off the plane immediately ready to pull an all-nighter at the office.

“I thought you were cleared until Wednesday.” It’s half a statement, half a question, and Scott feels like he’s been hit over the head with a two-by-four, his thoughts struggling to recover from the blow and comprehend the conversation. Mr. Schmidt had promised he'd release Tessa for the duration of the games, he'd assumed the closing ceremonies were part of that. 

“Plans changed. Mr. Van Dyke took on a new client and I guess it’s a pretty big case. Morris sent me an email and said I was needed back in the office as quickly as I could get there.” She frowns apologetically and presses the button with the arrow pointing up on the wall. Distantly, Scott realizes they’ve been walking this whole time and are now standing by the elevators. Is she really in that much of a hurry to get home, or to get away from him?

“But they know you’re in Korea with me.”

“This is my job, Scott. My career. I’m sorry that I can’t be there with you tonight, but I’ve been here for everything else and then some,” She points out, her voice short, and guilt washes over him. He’s being totally selfish right now. Whether it makes sense to him or not, if her work needs her, then they need her. She has to go.

“You’re right,” He forces himself to smile and squeezes her upper arm, relieved when she doesn’t flinch away from him this time, “I’m just greedy for your company, I guess. I’ll see you in Toronto.”

“Yeah, definitely.”

Scott holds his arms out for a hug and Tessa steps into it immediately and for a split-second he thinks maybe everything really will be fine, but she’s gone before he can even get his arms wrapped around her properly – stepping backwards out of reach like he’s a business colleague who she has to keep appropriate boundaries with. It’s all wrong.

“Are you sure we’re okay?” That word again. He wants to strike it from his vocabulary.

“Why wouldn’t we be?” She asks cheerily, breaking out into a bright smile as she steps into the waiting elevator.

“Just making sure.”

“We’re totally okay, Scott,” She smiles again, this time looking a little more genuine, “Go have breakfast with your family. I’ll see you in a few days.”

“Okay. Bye, Tess.”

With a small wave the doors close and she’s gone again, whisked away to pack up her things and fly home, leaving him to continue with his plans for the day without her. 

Realistically he knows his family is still here, as well as his teammates and friends. He has plenty of people to share this with. But... he wants it to be Tessa. It hurts that she won't be here, even if he understands that her career is important and deserves her full attention. 

Dismissing the uneasy feeling in his stomach as hunger, he resolves to move on as if everything is back to normal. After all, she said they should forget what happened and that everything is okay between them, and he has no good reason not to believe her.

****

They are not okay.

In the weeks since they returned from Korea Scott has noticed a palpable change in Tessa’s behavior. It’s not that he doesn’t ever see her anymore, because he does, or that she avoids coming over, because she still attends every get together with the three guys and participates in movie nights and gets into friendly debates over a myriad of topics, or that she dodges his texts or phone calls, because she still replies regularly to each one. It’s that she hasn’t been alone with him since _it_ happened, and he knows it’s on purpose.

Where once after a night of drinking and hanging out she would have slept over without a second thought, now she asks Chiddy or Jeff for a ride home. If Scott asks her out to lunch, she always has an excuse – going so far as to invite sixty-seven year old Edith to join them when he tried to surprise her with an impromptu appearance at her office. Like they need a chaperone or, even worse, a buffer. And on the rare occasion they have been left alone, she retreats to the nearest bathroom and barricades herself until she thinks it’s safe to return.

Each of these things alone would be weird enough, but all together they point to one very mad-slash-upset Tessa Virtue.

But the confusing thing is, when they’re together in a group she hasn’t changed. She’s bright and cheerful, friendly almost to a fault, always asking about his day and how Hannah is doing – whether she’s started properly crawling yet or if that tooth on the bottom has broken through. It’s as if she doesn’t notice the changes in her own behavior, which makes him question whether or not she actually _has_ changed, and then he gets confused trying to figure out if he’s just being paranoid and reading too much into everything and they really are fine, or if Tessa was lying when she said she was going to forget what happened and move on and is harboring some sort of grudge.

What Scott’s trying to say is that he has a killer headache.

Chiddy’s phone pings loud and sharp for the millionth time that evening, the vibrations that accompany the sound amplified by the fabric of the couch, and Scott groans and shoots a glare at his friend. He’s one more chime away from throwing one of the accent pillows Tessa picked out at him. 

“Seriously, dude, who keeps texting you?”

“Nobody,” Chiddy shrugs and sort of leans into the arm of the couch away from Scott, smiling at the screen as he chuckles low under his breath and shoots off a quick reply.

“Well it’s interrupting _Bloodsport_ and driving me crazy. It’s rude to have your phone on during a movie.” Honestly, any adult should know that leaving your phone on while watching a movie is bad etiquette and shows a fundamental lack of respect for your fellow movie-watchers. Especially when said movie is known throughout the land to be your friend’s favorite and go-to rest-and-relaxation flick. And Scott desperately needs some R and R right now.

“That’s only at the theater,” Chiddy says blithely, typing up another message before setting his phone back down on the cushions face down, “When we’re at home I get a free pass.”

“Uh, no. That’s not how it works. Turn your phone off.”

Chiddy huffs out a disbelieving laugh and shakes his head, then flips the phone up on its side to sneak a quick peek and see if he’s received an answer yet. “This is your favorite movie, not mine, which I am only indulging because you’ve been a real pain in the ass lately, by the way. You don’t get to tell me to turn my phone off.”

“I have not been a pain in the ass.” Scott sinks deeper into the couch, folding his arms over his chest and dipping his face into the collar of his favorite grungy hoodie. Grungy both from its general age, and the fact that he’s been laying on the couch in it all day after working out this morning. “I’m just asking you to show some common courtesy.”

“No, you’re being a dick. And you have _been_ a dick ever since we returned from Pyeongchang – which is stupid, by the way, because guys who win gold don’t get to be assholes.”

As if to prove his point, Chiddy leans forward and flicks the bobble-head of Scott in his Team Canada uniform that the guys had left on the coffee table as a joke, and Scott scowls as his mini-me’s head wiggles back and forth.

“I thought guys who win gold get to be whatever they want.”

“No,” Chiddy snatches up his phone the second it pings again, easily dodging Scott’s pillow attack, “They get offered free drinks at every bar we go to. You’ve just mixed those two things up inside your head.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” He _is_ being an asshole and he knows it, but everything is bugging him today.

First he’d woken up on the wrong side of the bed – literally – and accidentally bruised his knuckles punching a lamp while trying to find his alarm clock, then he’d pulled the muscles in his back doing lifts at the gym, then Jeff had used the last of the creamer – forcing Scott to drink his coffee black, which he hates, then Hannah had almost swallowed a piece of one of her toys that broke off (and screamed at him for a full fifteen minutes after he took it away), then Tessa had cancelled on him for lunch, then she’d cancelled on him for movie night, as well. It’s been one disaster after another.

What was that book his mom used to read to him when he was a kid? It’s been a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

“Liz is covering tonight,” Chiddy answers his question from the kitchen island where he’s assembling a sandwich, and Scott ignores the way his stomach grumbles and encourages him to ask for one, too, “Aren’t you supposed to be at Tessa’s?”

“She had to cancel. Said she had some take-home files to work on for her boss.” It’s not an unusual occurrence, but this time he has a sneaking suspicion that it’s more of a convenient excuse than a legitimate reason. “Wait, did you just call her Liz? What happened to Public Enemy Number One?”

Scott perks up at this sudden change in title for Chiddy’s sworn nemesis. The woman he’s heard nothing but complaints about for months. The fact that he’s referring to her by her actual proper name (by a nickname, no less!), is like a giant flashing red siren that something is up.

“Don’t be childish.” Chiddy waves him off, mouth full of ham and cheese. “We’re past that.”

“You are?! Since when!?”

“Since we came to mutually beneficial terms while covering the games in Korea.” Chiddy explains patiently as he retakes his seat on the couch. Looking, for all intents and purposes, like the very essence of aloofness. As if Scott’s surprise is ridiculous and unwarranted.

Is everyone in his life trying to make him question his sanity? Or has he been hallucinating the last six months?

Oh god – maybe he got violently taken out in the first game of the season and has been lying in a hospital bed at Toronto General Hospital in a coma ever since, with Tessa holding his hand and his parents weeping over his bedside.

“What kind of terms? She stops stealing your job and you stop accusing her of it?”

“Something like that.” Chiddy’s phone goes off again and this time he laughs at whatever he finds there, grinning at the screen like an idiot – not even noticing the mustard smeared across his chin.

There’s a puzzle piece missing here. Something that Chiddy is keeping from him. This sudden truce with _Liz-not-Elizabeth_ , the smiling while he texts, the generally joyful demeanor he’s been in since the Olympics (a sharp contrast to Scott’s own mood). Practically prancing about the apartment and clicking his heels when he heads off to work.

And Scott spotted a new bottle of his favorite cologne on his shelf just two days ago. The expensive kind that he only buys when he’s dating someone.

"Oh my god,” Scott shoots up straight, sending an embarrassing amount of potato chip crumbs tumbling off his chest down onto the floor, “You slept with her.”

“What?” Chiddy’s head whips around faster than a boomerang and he stares at him like a deer caught in the headlights, his eyes wide and panicked. “No I didn’t!”

“Yes, you did! That’s why you’ve been weird!”

This makes so much sense! Scott feels like an idiot for not picking up on his changes sooner. He’s stepped right into the plot of a mediocre Julia Roberts movie without looking – only this time the enemy is a sports broadcaster, not an abusive husband.

“I didn’t!” Chiddy almost bites his phone instead of his sandwich in his haste to distract himself and hide from the accusation, and Scott starts laughing and pointing his finger at him.

“Patrick Chan. You slept with your coworker.”

Chiddy goes silent as the color slowly drains from his face, wincing when he finally mutters, “Once.”

Yeah right. The cologne is evidence enough alone that this little dalliance with the pretty rival has happened much more than just once.

“Once? Really?” Scott gives him a knowing look and Chiddy tries to hide behind his half-eaten sandwich.

“Okay, fine,” He sighs audibly, “Maybe twice in Korea.”

_"And_ …?” 

“And a few times since coming home.”

“Oh my god.” Scott throws his head back and laughs.

“And Tuesday in the storage closet at work.” With that last confession, Chiddy shoves the rest of his sandwich in his mouth in one huge bite before folding his arms over his chest and chewing rather violently, fixing his eyes on the TV screen and acting as if suddenly _Bloodsport_ is the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.

“Holy shit! Chiddy you sly dog. I can’t believe this.” Scott sags back against the couch, too, shaking his head and huffing out a laugh in disbelief. His good friend Patrick Chan, he of the regimented fitness schedule and green smoothies and pull-over sweaters and strict schedules, had sex with his coworker in the storage closet. That’s a story he’ll remember for as long as he’ll live.

Something to mention at the wedding toast.

“How did this happen?”

“I don’t know how it happened.” Chiddy groans loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose and rubbing his eyes, “One minute we were in my hotel room arguing about the best way to cover the figure skating team event and the next we were in bed together.”

Well, all that wild hatred and resentment and bickering was bottling up and eventually it had to go somewhere. Strong emotions will eventually demand an outlet in some form or another. In hindsight Scott’s not really surprised that it happened _once_ , but the rest of it… “And the second time?”

“After the party at Canada House after the hockey game. We were covering it for the CBC and everybody was so damn happy! It was infectious. And…” Chiddy’s mouth curves into a small smile, and Scott smirks, “I don’t know. She looked really pretty dancing to the Arkells and we’d both had a few beers after we finished filming our segment… inviting her back to my hotel room just felt right. I’m pretty sure everybody was celebrating that night.” 

“Yeah…” Scott’s smirk is wiped away by Chiddy’s last comment as the memories of his own celebration come flooding back in, sobering him up. The memories he’s supposed to have forgotten by now but that still haunt his dreams every night.

“Except for you, apparently.” Chiddy snorts and bumps him with his elbow, and Scott attempts to laugh with him and fails spectacularly.

Pyeongchang might have ended on a strange note for him personally, but Scott’s glad that Chiddy’s went in such an opposite, if unexpected, direction. “I’m happy for you, man, I really am. I don’t really know her, but she seems like a nice girl. Just be careful with the whole working together thing. That can get messy.”

Chiddy laughs and shakes his head, waving his hand around to dismiss Scott’s concern. “It’s just casual – we both know that. We talked about it after the first time it happened back here in Canada. But that’s enough about my secrets from South Korea – we should talk about yours. You’ve been in a mood and I think it’s high time we talk about it.”

“I’m not in a mood,” Scott turns back towards the TV and tries to focus on the scene playing out in front of him, which would be easier if he didn’t already have the whole movie memorized, “And I don’t want to talk about it.”

“The fact that you just acknowledged you don’t want to talk means you are definitely in a mood. Did something happen with Tessa?” Chiddy finally switches his phone to silent and tucks it into his pocket before sitting forward on the edge of the couch. A sure sign that he’s determined to make this a real conversation - one that Scott can't avoid, as much as he might wish to.

“Why would you assume that?” Scott shifts around nervously and glances towards the baby monitor. Hannah went down early tonight and while he knows she needs the sleep, he wouldn’t exactly mind it if she decided to wake up right now. Maybe spit up all over Chiddy, for good measure. Not a whole lot, but enough to make him forget about this line of questioning.

The last thing he wants is to tell Chiddy what happened in that hotel room. Not only because he knows he’ll freak out and turn it into an even bigger deal than it was, but also because it was… personal. Something Scott shared only with Tess. And part of him wants to keep it that way – treat it with reverence instead of brag about her like she’s just another casual hook-up.

“Because you only get like this when it’s Tessa-related,” Chiddy snorts, “Only this time she still seems to be talking to you so it can’t be one of your usual fights. Are you mad at her about something?”

“I’m not mad at her,” Scott answers with a shrug, moving to stand up, “Do you want a beer?”

“Scott –“

He sighs when it becomes apparent that Chiddy isn’t going to drop this. And Scott figures maybe if he has some of the details, Chiddy will be able to help him work out exactly what IS going on with Tessa. It’s worth a try, anyway. “I mean _I’m_ not mad at _her._ ”

“Oh.” Chiddy sits back, scratching his chin and nodding seriously, “Damn. She must be really good at hiding her anger then, because Jeff and I have been wondering if something was up, but she seems so normal we figured we were reading too much into things.”

“You guys have been gossiping about us?”

“We always gossip about you two.”

That’s not exactly reassuring.

“So what happened?”

“I…” Scott sits back down and starts picking at the hole in the knee of his sweatpants, probably making it worse, “It’s hard to explain.”

Chiddy hums, “Did you kiss her?”

Scott looks up, half-expecting to find a smile and a joke written on his friend’s face, but Chiddy looks completely serious. His eyes dark and contemplative and, what’s worse, unsurprised. Do their friends gossip about that, too? 

“Not exactly.”

"Not _exactly_ ,” Chiddy scoffs, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Shit. He’s going to have to explain himself now or Chiddy will never let this go. “After the hockey game I went to the party at Canada House and got a little, okay maybe more than a little,” He amends at the look Chiddy gives him, “Bit drunk. I went back to the hotel to check on Hannah and afterwards got talking to Tessa and I might have climbed into bed with her to cuddle, but it was totally with innocent intentions – I swear! I just wanted to take a nap.”

“Uh huh,” Chiddy grits his teeth, sounding skeptical, “Go on.”

“I might have… I don’t know. I don’t know how it happened. One second we were just going to take a nap together and the next I had my hand up her shirt and we were on the fast track to having sex. I can’t explain it.”

"I can,” Chiddy mutters to himself, almost too quiet for Scott to hear him, “So then what happened? Please tell me you didn’t do something stupid.”

“I don’t know!” Scott throws his hands up in the air. That’s the problem that’s been plaguing him since they got home. On paper it was a totally stupid move, but in practice… well, he can’t quite bring himself to regret it. “Things were going great and I thought we were both into it, but then after she… you know… after some _oral_ I accidentally fell asleep – in my defense, I’d just played a pretty intense hockey game and she was… she was good, okay? - and when I woke up she was gone.”

“Gone?”

“Not gone-gone like left the country,” He explains, “But I found her at breakfast and she said we should just forget it ever happened and move on. And it seemed like that’s what she really wanted and so I agreed to it because I wanted to respect her wishes. But things have been weird and uncomfortable ever since then. Sometimes I think she’s upset about something, but then she smiles and keeps talking like everything’s fine and I have no idea if she is or not. I’m going crazy!”

He’s used to being able to read Tessa like an open book. This uncertainty is foreign and strange and chafes underneath his skin, grating at him in a way that makes it hard to sleep at night. What is it about this one encounter that makes it so different from all the others he’s had? Why can’t he just lock it up as another fond memory of something shared with his best friend and _move on_!?

“Hear me out here,” Chiddy starts tentatively, as if he’s afraid something he might say could make Scott bolt, “But maybe she’s feeling a little bit used. I mean, you have to consider the fact that nobody knows your reputation better than Tessa. You guys crossed a pretty big line, maybe she felt like just another one night stand and that you coming to her for _oral,_ ” He makes air quotes around the word, “Cheapened what you guys share.” 

“But Tess could never be just a one night stand. She means way more than that to me.” The idea is laughable and Scott dismisses it without a second thought. She’s practically his whole world, after Hannah. There’s no way she doesn’t know that.

“So maybe you should show her that.” Chiddy suggests, arching his eyebrow, and Scott can feel the judgement radiating off of him in waves. “Let her know _exactly_ what she means to you. Maybe talk about how what you guys did made you both feel?”

That’s not actually a bad idea. If Tessa does feel like what they did cheapened their friendship, it could be because it was one-sided. She gave and he took, and that’s no way for a friend to behave. Frankly, in hindsight he behaved like an entitled pig and he does not blame her for feeling angry at him.

“She did point out that all that really happened was a blowjob… Maybe she thinks we’re uneven, you know?” Scott muses, talking mostly to himself as he works it over in his head, “I promised to go down on her and I didn’t deliver and then we moved past it like it really was just a one night thing. But I should never have fallen asleep without reciprocating.”

“That’s way too much information,” Chiddy grimaces, scrunching up his face in disgust and holding up both his hands like he’s trying to ward off whatever images Scott’s unwittingly created in his head, “And I’m not sure exactly what you’re getting at here, but I think you’ve totally missed my point. I meant that you should start to consider how -”

“We need to even things out!” Scott interrupts him, “An orgasm for an orgasm!”

“No, I don’t think –“

“Don’t you get it? This is perfect. Tessa gets to feel good, I get to salvage our friendship and be a good friend again, and she no longer feels like I used her for just a meaningless blowjob. A second time together proves I don’t think of her as just a one night stand, and if the night is dedicated solely to her pleasure then that shows that I don’t just care about myself.”

“Scott, listen, I really don’t think that’s what Tessa –“

“Thanks for the advice, man! Can you stay in with Hannah tonight? I want to head over there now and fix this right away.”

Chiddy sighs long and hard, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment before finally letting out a loud groan and nodding, “Sure, why not. Go be an idiot. I’ll stay here and wait for Tessa to send your ass rolling all the way back home when she kicks you out of her apartment.”

“Chiddy, I’m telling you,” Scott laughs, jumping up from off the couch, “This is the right plan to make things better, I can feel it. I’ll pick up her favorite pizza and wine and we’ll watch _Stardust_ or one of her other favorite movies and then I’ll make things even and poof – no more awkward imbalance.”

“Yeah,” Chiddy snorts, “Because Tessa’s totally the type to keep score and it’s the _imbalance_ that’s making things awkward. Sure.”

“I’m right about this,” Scott states confidently, heading towards his bedroom to take a quick shower and change into something more presentable, “You’ll see.” 

Scott shows up on Tessa’s doorstep in Corktown forty minutes later with two boxes (the extra one is so that she can have plenty for leftovers periodically throughout the week - he knows she forgets to go grocery shopping sometimes) of hot veggie pizza from Descendant Detroit Style Pizza – her favorite place - and a bottle of her favorite red wine from his collection in hand. Ringing her doorbell and practically bouncing up and down on his toes as he tries to calm his nerves.

He’s had forty minutes to work on his script. To figure out the exact right order of words to explain his epiphany and convince her that this is the right course of action to take to move forward, but he’s come up with a big fat zero number of viable options. Everything just comes out sounding like a bad pick-up line and there’s a very strong chance she’ll already be annoyed with him for showing up unannounced on a night she’d said she had work to do, especially given how things have been between them lately, but whether he makes a mess of his proposal or not, he can’t stand the idea of this _whatever it is_ going on any longer.

He needs _Tessa and Scott_ back.

The door swings open to find the wrong Virtue sister staring back at him. Or rather, glaring back at him. If looks could kill Jordan would have just incinerated him on the spot.

The creeping suspicion that she knows what happened in Pyeongchang starts trickling down his spine.

“What makes you think you’re welcome here?” Jordan takes a wide stance and crosses her arms, flexing her impressive biceps. If the whole lawyer thing doesn’t work out for her, Scott’s confident she could be hired as a bouncer at any club in town. He learned his lesson never to cross Jordan when they were all kids and he tried to cheat on a race around the local track – she’d railed into him like an expert prosecutor, tearing him down with a full thesis statement on the evils of cheating followed up by a well-supported argument and the threat that if he ever tried that again she’d dunk his head in the river.

“Uh… hello to you too, Jordan. I’m here to see Tess.” He holds up the boxes of pizza as if that explains everything, shaking them around a bit with a nervous smile. “Is she here?” 

She cocks her head and arches a single, perfectly manicured eyebrow – looking an awful lot like Tessa when she’s angry, “You really think junk food and more alcohol is the answer?”

Yep, Tessa definitely told her. Which means that she lied when she said she wanted to forget it and move on, because she hadn’t kept it a secret – she’d confessed to her sister and now cool, suave, unflappable Jordan has turned into Big Sister Jordan (a role she takes very seriously) which only serves to confirm that he and Chiddy were both right – Tessa _is_ upset.

“I think I’d really like to talk to Tessa,” Scott says, purposely keeping his voice light and trying not to show fear. Hoping to avoid a public lashing on the front steps of their house. “So is she here?”

“She’s out with –“

"Is that Scott?” Tessa comes hurrying up behind her sister, sliding across the floor in her fuzziest socks and bumping into Jordan’s side as she comes to a stop, “Of course he’s welcome here, Jojo, why wouldn’t he be? Don’t be silly!” The words fly out of her mouth in a rush, and Scott doesn’t miss the warning look she gives Jordan.

Tessa really is a terrible liar.

Shuffling his feet awkwardly on the step, Scott waits for one of them to say something, but they seem to be having a private conversation. Little twitches and glances and pursed lips the only words that pass between them before Jordan rolls her eyes and throws up her hands.

“Fine! I’m heading over to Dom’s. Text me if you need anything, Tess. I’ll be back later.” She brushes past him in a huff, bumping into his shoulder with a little too much force for it to be an accident, and Scott audibly gulps as he looks back at Tessa.

So far he’s off to a bit of a rocky start, but hopefully the night can still be salvaged. He just… he really wants to fix this.

“What are you doing here, Scott?” Tessa steps aside so that he can enter, and he moves past her into the cozy interior of her living room and further into the kitchen to set down the food on the marble countertop.

The muted whites and greys and natural wood accents of the apartment are a compliment to the sisters’ tastes, and Scott relaxes a bit now that he’s inside. He’s always liked Tessa’s home – it feels like the kind of place you go to relax and breathe deeply while you read a book or do yoga. A stark contrast to the busy lives both sisters lead. And now that he's here it seems like the perfect place for making amends. 

“I know you’re working tonight, but I also know how you can forget to eat when your head is full of law stuff, so I thought I’d bring you a pizza.” He lifts up the lid of the top box with a flourish, letting the delicious smell hit her full-force, feeling satisfied when she inhales sharply and zeroes in on the pizza with an eager look on her face.

“You really didn’t have to do that.”

“I know I didn’t _have_ to.” He grabs a plate from her cupboard and puts two pieces of pizza on it before handing it to her. She always tries to start with one, but he knows she’ll go back for a second slice eventually. “I wanted to. Don’t tell me you’ve suddenly developed an aversion to veggie pizza.”

Tessa stares at her food, already salivating, “… No.”

He grabs a second plate and picks a slice out for himself, then quickly grabs two napkins from the holder by the stove – preempting the request he could see forming on her lips. “I didn’t think so. Take a break and have some dinner with me, Virtch. I feel like we haven’t had a chance to talk in a while.”

“We talk all the time.” Still, she slides onto the barstool next to him and allows him to pour her a glass of wine, and Scott can’t help but grin at her. Point one for the pizza, point two for the wine, _not a bad start at an apology, Moir_.

“Texting and nights spent arguing with Jeff and Chiddy over what movie to watch don’t count,” He teases, tipping his glass against hers, “Cheers.”

“We engaged in the action of speech or discussion,” Tessa quips, taking a generous sip of her wine before biting off a piece of pizza, “That’s talking.”

"You know what I mean, Miss Oxford Dictionary. One-on-one, just us. There hasn’t been enough of that lately.”

Tessa zeroes in on her food again, and this time when she talks it sounds like a rehearsed line from a script – her eyebrows scrunching together and her free hand fiddling with the sleeve of her emerald green sweater. “I’ve been busy with work. We have a big trial coming up and it’s taking all the resources we have to prepare for it. I really have to bring my A game. Have I told you about it? It’s actually really interesting. See, it all started with some run of the mill corporate espionage -”

“I get it,” Scott interjects with a chuckle, placing his hand over hers, “I just miss you, Virtch.”

She moves her hand out from under his and tucks it in her lap, “I’m right here.”

_Whoosh_. The air leaves his body in one long gust as Scott tries to prepare himself for the big conversation that’s about to happen. She’s still physically withdrawing from him and this is the perfect opening to address it. It’s time to take the plunge. Now or never.

“But you’ve been distant since Korea. Don’t deny it, I know you have.”

She looks over at him with a frown, and Scott can see the way she’s gone tense all over. Like he’s a lion and she’s a helpless gazelle, waiting for him to pounce and desperate for any escape. “I thought we agreed not to talk about that.”

“We did,” He nods and goes back to eating his pizza, trying to keep things as casual as possible. The more nonchalant he acts the more he hopes that she’ll realize she has nothing to fear from this conversation. “But you also said you wanted to forget it happened and it’s clear that you haven’t. You’re upset about it.”

“Scott –“ She moves as if to stand up, but he places his hand on her forearm and stops her.

“And I think I know why.”

Tessa goes as white as a sheet, her throat working as she gulps a few times before saying, “You do?”

She must be embarrassed that he’s figured out why she’s angry with him – that he knows it’s because she feels cheated out of an orgasm. But she doesn’t need to be. Her anger is totally justified and he’s here now to set things right, and there’s no shame in wanting. What's a little oral between friends, after all? 

“Yes. I made a promise to you that night and I didn’t follow through. That’s pretty shitty behavior for a friend.” He huffs out a self-deprecating laugh and steals one of the discarded banana peppers from off her plate, swapping it out for the green ones on his that he knows she likes.

“What are you talking about?”

Scott laughs again at her attempt at appearing confused. He _almost_ believes her, but they both know what he’s referring to. “I’m talking about _returning the favor_.” He waggles his eyebrows at her, purposely dragging his eyes up and down her body – blatantly checking her out – and he’s satisfied that he’s gotten his point across when Tessa blushes and takes a quick drink of her wine. He _knew_ she’d been thinking about that.

“That’s not – you don’t have to do that. What happened in Korea was a fluke. I’m sorry if you think I’ve been distant since then, but I’ve just been busy, I swear. This isn’t about you not returning the favor,” She blushes again, “Or whatever, I promise. Just good old-fashioned busy work schedules.”

_Methinks the lady doth protest too much_ , Scott smirks to himself. Turns out he does remember something from all that Shakespeare back in high school, and it seems a pretty fitting descriptor for Tessa’s behavior right now. “Don’t lie to me, Tess. I know when you’re hiding something and I know you’ve been upset, and I know it’s because of how strongly you feel about fair play. Let me make this right.”

Tessa picks at her pizza in silence, gnawing on her bottom lip and stealing glances at him every so often while she digests his words. Sensing that she needs a little more encouragement, Scott winks at her and shoots her a cheesy grin before finishing off the rest of his slice, hopefully communicating his willingness to go ahead with this.

“… Just to be clear,” She starts slowly, drawing out her words, “When you say make this right you mean –“

“Let me eat you out,” Scott bluntly finishes the sentence for her, laughing when Tessa nearly chokes and flushes with color from her forehead to the collar of her shirt. 

“Oh my god.” She swallows the rest of her wine in one big mouthful and immediately pours herself another full glass – drinking half of that as well before she’s able to speak again. “This isn’t happening right now. This has to be some sort of alternate universe. I’m going to wake up in my bed and it will be morning and this will all be a dream.”

“This isn’t a dream, Virtch,” Scott laughs, taking her wine glass out of her hands before she can drink too much for this to be fully consensual, “I’m serious! We left things uneven between us and I feel like an asshole. Let me make things right.”

“ _That’s_ why you feel like an asshole?” Tessa gapes at him, and for the first time since he crossed her threshold he feels defensive. For some reason, she doesn’t seem to be grasping the concept of reciprocation like he’d anticipated.

Tugging at his hair in frustration, Scott replies, “Yes! It makes it seem like I was just using you for some quick fun and that wasn’t it at all.”

“It wasn’t?” She’s biting on her bottom lip again and Scott’s briefly distracted by how plump it makes her lips seem. Rosy and pink and kissable. If he just leans in…

“Never,” He says, quiet, but firm, “You know you mean more to me than that.”

Tessa searches his face for a long time. Looking for answers to god only knows what questions. He just hopes whatever she finds there is good enough – enough to convince her that he really does want to make things right. That he cares about her. So, so much.

“So tonight…” She hesitates, gesturing awkwardly between them, “You want to –“

“-Go down on you,” He supplies again when it seems like she’s too shy to say the words outright, and Tessa huffs out a funny sort of laugh. Shaking her head like she’s still half-convinced this is a dream.

As long as it’s a good dream, Scott doesn’t mind what she thinks.

“Do that,” She finishes her own sentence, ignoring him, “And then we call it even and continue on as friends. Like nothing’s changed. That’s what you want to do?”

“Exactly. It’s just like how we used to take turns buying each other hot chocolate before practice in the morning when we were kids. Give and take, remember?”

“Yeah,” She snorts derisively, “It’s just like that.”

“You take care of me, I take care of you,” He insists, taking her hand again and smiling when she doesn’t withdraw this time, “It’s what we’ve always done. Right now, I owe you one.”

“This is crazy,” She warns, tilting her head as she looks up at him, “One hundred percent bonkers.”

“I promise I’ll make you feel good.”

Tessa snorts again and pulls away, standing up this time and disposing of their plates in the sink before getting out some Ziploc bags to store the rest of the pizza in the fridge for later. “That’s what every guys says before you have to fake an orgasm.”

"You’ve been faking your orgasms!?” He’s horrified. What kind of lame-ass guys has she been sleeping with that can’t even be bothered to make sure she comes? Some two pump chump who rolls over and lights a cigarette when he’s done?

Okay – so maybe it occurs to him that he’s not much better than those guys right now, but he’s here to make it right, and that makes all the difference.

“Was it Tommy? I bet it was. That punk always did think he was God’s gift to –“

“Scott!” Tessa slaps her hand over his mouth, half-laughing, half-shouting, “It doesn’t matter who it was. Forget I said anything.”

He pulls her hand away from his mouth, but refuses to let it go – instead lacing their fingers together and stroking his thumb across the back of her hand as he insists, “But you shouldn’t do that, Virtch. If a guy isn’t doing it for you, kick him out. Don’t boost his ego when he doesn’t deserve it.”

“So you’re saying you do deserve it?” She gives him a teasing smile, her eyes sparkling with mischief, and Scott could almost kiss her he’s so happy to see that look again. This, _this_ , is who they are. Comfortable and laughing and teasing and happy just to be in each other’s company.

"I’m saying let me prove to you that I do.”

“This is crazy.” She says again, repeating her warning from earlier. Her voice is just as solemn, but he can tell her resolve is weakening, and he shakes his head.

"It makes perfect sense when you think about it.”

"Sure it does." She laughs again, a wild, nervous sound, before picking her glass back up and downing the rest of her wine. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He grins, his heart soaring with success, and impulsively lifts her hand that’s still linked with his to his mouth so that he can press a kiss to the back of it.

“This is stupid and insane and a recipe for disaster and I have no idea why the hell I’m agreeing to it, but okay.”

Maybe that word isn’t so bad after all.

With a cheerful "yeehaw!" that has her laughing,he drags her back towards the living room, scoping out the fancy big grey couch and trying to decide if that’s a viable option, or if she’ll make him lay down plastic coverings first. “Where do you want to do this?”

“What –“ She stops dead in her tracks, almost pulling his arm out of his socket, “Right now!?”

“Of course. No time like the present, T! Couch or bed? When is Jordan coming back?”

“I don’t know.”

“Bed it is then,” He decides with a confident nod. The couch would have been too high-maintenance, anyway, and he’d rather Tessa wasn’t distracted by protecting the upholstery while he’s doing this. “I’d really rather not get caught by your sister with my head between your legs. I’m pretty sure she could kill me, dispose of my body, and then act as her own defense lawyer in the murder trial and win.”

“That’s true,” Tessa agrees with a laugh, and it’s so nice to hear that sound again with regularity that Scott can’t resist the urge to sweep her up in his arms and carry her up the stairs to her bedroom – earning a loud squeal of surprise as Tessa throws her arms around his neck and holds on tight. “What the hell are you doing?!”

“Getting us to our destination.”

He moves up the white wooden staircase with ease, making sure to watch her head so that she doesn’t bump it against anything and bring their night to a premature end, and heads towards her bedroom – kicking the door open with the toe of his sneaker.

“By carrying me? I have legs, you know.”

“Great legs,” He agrees, flipping the light switch and setting her down on the floor of her bedroom before playfully slapping her ass, “But wasn’t being carried more fun? Besides, it’s not like you’re very big. It was no trouble.”

“You’re the worst,” She groans.

“No, I’m about to prove I’m the best, remember? Honestly, T, keep up.”

“Why am I letting you do this again?”

“Re-cip-ro-ca-tion,” He says slowly, enunciating every syllable, and Tessa slugs him on the shoulder. “Are you going to take this off?” He tugs on the hem of her sweater, inching it up her body, but Tessa shoves his hand away.

“Nuh-uh,” She shifts awkwardly, wrapping her arms around her chest, “We agreed that you’d do to me what I did to you. The shirt stays on.”

“You took off my shirt last time. _And_ your shirt. There was a lot of shirtlessness, T, and frankly, I was a big fan.” Scott reaches for her again, only to pout when she swats his hand away and wiggles her finger at him.

"This is my payback, right? I get to choose how naked I am for it,” She sasses, “Besides, I think it’s good for us to have boundaries.”

“Wow, the lawyer in the room trying to write rules for oral sex, I’m shocked.”

“I’m a _paralegal._ We don’t write the rules, we just memorize them.”

“But you’re _going_ to be a lawyer, so it still counts. Come on, Virtch, let me get reacquainted with my new favorite part of you. It won’t take me very long.” 

“Wow, Scott, so you think I’m short and that I have small tits. Keep digging that hole, there.”

It takes him a second to catch on, but the longer she smirks at him, eyebrows raised in expectation and pursing her lips to hold off her playful smile, the more he remembers a similar conversation happening last time they were together, only in reverse.

Laughing at the reference, he shakes his head and replies, “No, I think you’re the perfect height for hugs and for tucking under my arm or carrying up the stairs, and that your tits are fucking amazing. So amazing, in fact, that I would very much like to see them again.”

“Maybe,” She drawls, and Scott watches in eager anticipation as she fists the bottom of her shirt and starts to raise it, slowly revealing her toned stomach, “If you’re good.” She lets the fabric fall, hiding herself from his view again, and he can’t help but give her a disappointed pout.

“Is that a promise, or are you taunting me?”

"It’s a goal for you to achieve.” Tessa winks and moves towards the bed, sitting down on the edge of her fluffy white comforter.

It occurs to him then that this is the first time he’ll be in her bed. Not just in a sexual way, but in any way at all. Any sleepovers they’ve had have always been at his place, given that that’s usually where the parties happen, so he’s never had the opportunity to sample hers. In fact, now that he thinks about it, he’s not sure if anybody has ever slept here but her. She’s always so protective of her apartment as a place of refuge, her bedroom especially. A place that is entirely her own, away from the world. He’s honored that she’s letting him breech that wall tonight, and feels even more pressure to make sure she doesn’t regret that decision.

“Challenge accepted. Lay down.” He flicks his head towards the mattress, encouraging Tessa to scoot backwards until she’s more comfortably situated in the middle. She takes a moment to rearrange her pillows, tossing a few of the fancier accent ones off to the side before piling two of the regular ones up so that she can prop her head up on them.

“Is this okay?” She lays back awkwardly, folding her hands on top of her lower stomach and biting her bottom lip while looking over at him, “I thought it would be easier to see you like this.” 

“You want to watch?” He asks eagerly, climbing onto the bed and inching across it on his knees until he’s kneeling between her legs. His heart is pounding away wildly inside his chest, but he tries to ignore it – channeling his nerves into positive action by lightly stroking the strip of skin between her fuzzy socks and the bottom of her leggings.

Tessa blushes, but maintains her eye contact, “Yes. Is that okay?”

“Absolutely,” He grins roguishly and slips his fingers underneath the top of her socks, tugging both of them off in one quick move before balling them up and tossing them in the direction of her hamper. Hopefully she’ll forgive him for not being as meticulous with her clothing as she was with his. “That’s super-hot, actually. Maybe we could set up a mirror somewhere next time.”

Scott swoops in and presses a heated kiss underneath her bellybutton, chuckling when Tessa gasps and her hands fly to his hair – holding him to her as he continues to pepper kisses all along the waistband, from one hipbone to the other and back again.

There’s a wondrous look at her face when he looks up at her to wordlessly ask permission to undress her – eyes fixed on him and pupils blown wide – and for a second Scott gets lost in her gorgeous green eyes. Watching her in silence as he grazes his lips across her skin, shuddering when her fingernails graze that spot on the back of his neck again in response.

“Off?” He finally asks, tugging at the band of her favorite black Adidas leggings, holding it away from her for a second before letting it snap back into place and laughing when she protests and flicks his ear as punishment.

“Off,” She agrees, arching her hips so that he has enough room.

He peels her leggings off slowly. Partially because he likes drawing it out, but also because they’re made of tight spandex and not exactly the easiest things to remove (a fact he’ll never admit to. If she asks he’ll say his speed is entirely intentional). And when they’re finally all the way off he balls those up too and tosses them after her socks.

“I hope laundry is part of this reciprocation plan.” She cocks her head expectantly and points to the discarded clothes while bringing her legs up and pressing her knees together. Simultaneously trying to distract him from her blush and prevent him from looking at her, but Scott’s having none of it.

“Do you really trust me with your laundry?” He places his hands on her knees and slowly rubs circles into them with his thumbs until he feels her relax a bit, then runs his hands down her thighs – opening her up to his hungry gaze.

She’s wearing maroon underwear with white polka dots and lace trim, and somehow it’s sexier than any lingerie he’s ever seen. He wants to kiss her there, wants to lavish her with attention, but it’s too soon. Tonight is all about rocking her world, which isn’t going to happen if he just dives right in and hurries things along. Especially since he can tell she’s still nervous and too distracted to enjoy it properly. No, he’s got to draw this out, increase the anticipation until she’s mindless and begging for it.

“No,” Tessa gasps while he slides the palms of his hands down the inside of her thighs, pressing her legs even wider into the mattress, but stopping while he’s still a few inches away from her center, “I know you’d – ungh – you’d dye all my clothes pink or shrink them or something.”

"Huh?” He tears his gaze away from the new discovery of the brown birthmark on the inside of her thigh, just outside the hemline of her underwear, to look at her. Why is she talking about – _oh yeah_ , laundry. He’d completely forgotten. “Yeah, exactly. Toss the delicates in with the denim.”

“Set the cotton to dry on high heat.”

Scott laughs, then decides there’s entirely too much talking about household chores happening here. If she can still think about something as mundane as laundry, then it’s time for him to kick it up a notch.

Lifting her leg to his shoulder, he replaces his hands with his mouth – kissing and nipping his way up, up, up until he’s _almost_ there. He hears it when she gasps, the heat of his breath ghosting over her underwear, and he smirks when she actually whimpers with disappointment when he bypasses her pussy to move down the other leg.

She moans when he gently bites just above the inside of her knee, and Scott spends an inordinate amount of time first there, then on the opposite leg in the same spot, sucking marks into her skin. In fact, he likes the look of them so much he decides to create a trail up the inside of each leg. A little path of breadcrumbs to help him find his destination again.

(And if a part of him that he'll deny exists wants to put them there so that she can’t so easily decide to forget their rendezvous this time, well, nobody needs to know.)

“Scott,” Tessa groans as he finishes up the last one on her right leg, right below the crevice where her thigh meets her center – tugging almost painfully on his hair and canting her hips towards his mouth, “Fuck! Would you just get _on_ with it already?”

The curse word falling so gracelessly from her pretty mouth gets to him more than anything, and he has to grind his hips into the mattress to provide some relief before he can reply. “So impatient,” He tsks, and Tessa raises up on her elbows with a glare – mouth opening to say something undoubtedly snarky. She’s not tense anymore – no sign of nerves or discomfort, so he cuts off her retort by pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss right over where he assumes her clit is, licking her through her underwear.

Her loud moan echoes around the room as she collapses back onto the bed, and Scott mentally pats himself on the pat for guessing correctly, lapping at the spot with his tongue while sliding his hands underneath either side of her underwear so that he can grip it and push it tighter against her.

He focuses on that spot until he can feel her thighs shaking, until the whimpers and moans are all blending together, until the fabric is dark red and wet, and then he pulls away and begins peppering kisses back down her thighs again – lifting her legs over his shoulders without warning so that he has better access to the backs of them as well, nipping her ass cheeks for good measure.

“What the hell!?” Tessa struggles to prop herself up again, this time only managing to get on one elbow, “Why did you stop?”

“It was getting a little intense. You seemed like you could use a break.” He smiles and shoots her a wink, and Tessa promptly thwacks him over the head with a V embroidered pillow. “Hey!”

“If you’re not going to finish the job, then I’ll do it myself. Get out.”

The world freezes as his brain supplies him with that wonderful image, and Scott goes slack-jawed at the thought of watching her do _that_ to herself. Would she go slow or fast? Two hands or one? Oh fuck, does she own a vibrator?

Will she let him use it on her?

“I was kidding!” She prods him with her toes when he takes too long to respond to her threat, lifting her hips off the bed in open encouragement, “Come on, Moir. Show me what you’ve got.”

Sex toys will have to wait for another time.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Scott grabs her underwear again, this time finally pulling them off her body and shooting them across the room like a rubber-band – making Tessa burst out in a lovely round of giggles.

Together they watch as it hits the wall and sinks behind her dresser, before laughing even harder.

“Nice shot,” She grins, “You should have been drafted by the Raptors.”

“Nah,” He waves his hand towards the wall, dismissing her suggestion, “I’m much better with a stick than I am with balls.”

“That’s what she said.” Tessa’s laughing before the words have fully left her mouth, unable to maintain her teasing smirk for even a second, and Scott stares at her in both shock and delight.

“Tessa Virtue,” He laughs, “I can’t believe that just came out of your mouth. _Naughty_!”

"I learned from the best.” She winks at him and falls back against the pillows, and suddenly it hits him that he just threw away her underwear. Which means she’s naked from the waist down. Naked and he’s allowed, encouraged, really, to look at her.

He doesn’t waste another second.

“Jesus, Tess,” He spreads her legs and tries not to get distracted by how his dick gets rock hard at the sight of her, “Wow.”

“Don’t,” She groans, covering her face with her hands, “Don’t just stare at me. It’s weird.”

“It’s not staring, it’s _admiring_ ,” He corrects her, bending down to kiss the top of her mound. She gasps at the contact and slowly removes her hands so that she can meet his eyes again, her cheeks still colored bright red.

“Wow.” She says it so quietly he’s almost not sure he heard her right, running her hand through his hair and tenderly stroking the shell of his ear. 

“Can I continue?” He lets his lips brush against her as he tilts his head, waiting for her permission, and Tessa silently nods – capturing her bottom lip with her teeth and keeping her eyes trained on him.

He starts slowly again, gentle licks and kisses just to get her used to him being there without the barrier of fabric in the way. Highly conscious of the fact that what he’s doing is incredibly intimate, whether it’s just as a friend returning the favor or not, and wanting to take his time to do it right. Following her sounds and silent signals just as she did for him – slowly increasing the pressure and urgency as her moans get louder.

Eventually he slips one finger inside of her, then two, and Tessa really loses it then – burying one hand in his hair to hold him in place while the other scrambles to lift her sweater up past her breasts, finally baring them to his gaze.

"Does that mean I can –?”

“ _Please_ ,” She nods vigorously and he wastes no time reaching up with his free hand and cupping her breast, running his thumb back and forth across her nipple a few times before pinching it between his fingers and tugging just as he gives her clit a particularly hard suck, and Tessa almost screams.

“Is that good, T?” He drags his tongue down to lick inside her opening along with his fingers, grinding his hips rhythmically into the mattress in sync with the thrusts of her hips, “What else do you like?” 

“Ungh,” She grunts and desperately clasps his hand over her breasts with one of her own, half holding it, half crushing it to her harder, “More. Just keep going.”

“Yeah?” He sucks on her clit again and feels her clench around his fingers, “Yeah.”

“Please, Scott, I’m gonna –“

"Look at me, Tess.” It takes her a second to focus, but she does and her eyes lock with his - neither of them capable of looking away even if they wanted to. With a smile he flicks his tongue against her clit and slips a third finger inside her, thrusting a few times before wrapping his lips around her and sucking hard, and she comes with a cry – her mouth falling open and her body curling around his head, her eyelids only fluttering shut at the very last second. The hand holding his against her chest almost crushing him with the strength of her orgasm.

He brings her down from her high with gentle kitten licks, removing each finger one at a time before licking them clean and crawling up her body to collapse onto his side next to her. His cock is aching and he’s sorely tempted to pull it out and finish himself off. It wouldn’t take much – just a flick of his wrist – but he can’t. That’s not what this was about and he doesn’t want to detract from Tessa’s afterglow by selfishly chasing his own pleasure.

“You didn’t fake that, did you?” He wipes his mouth off on the back of his hand with a smug smile, and Tessa misses him by a mile when she tries to halfheartedly kick his leg.

She hasn’t moved from the position she collapsed into, and Scott finds himself enraptured by the way her chest rises and falls with each heaving breath, her pebbled nipples, the fine sheen of sweat coating her body, the light reflecting off of her bellybutton piercing, the freckles that trail down, down, down…

“Wow,” Tessa sighs, still panting. It’s almost heartbreaking when she pulls her sweater back down, tugging it low enough to reach the top of her thighs and hide all the parts he was enjoying memorizing from view. “That was… unexpected.”

“Virtch,” Scott groans and flops onto his back, throwing his arm over his face dramatically, “Don’t start back up with that low expectations stuff. You’re seriously wounding my pride and making me doubt everything I ever thought about myself.”

"Sorry,” She giggles, low and throaty, and it goes straight to his groin, “My brain’s a little addled at the moment.”

“See now that? That’s a compliment.” He grins dopily and rolls back onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow so that he can look down at her, “You won’t be forgetting _that_ anytime soon.” He states confidently, swooping in to kiss the juncture between her neck and shoulder, and when he leans back he finds her blushing and looking down at her hands.

“No,” She says quietly, her voice soft and almost… private somehow, “No, I definitely won’t.”

Good. He can’t help but feel a little bit triumphant to hear her say that. What they did in Korea and here tonight might be casual, and chances are it will probably never happen again (he purposely ignores the pang of disappointment that lances through his chest at that depressing thought), but he hates the idea of either of them just forgetting it.

It might be selfish, but he wants her to remember him. For it to matter, at least a little.

"So did I make things right?” He winds his finger through the loose bits of her hair that are scattered across the pillow, rubbing the silky strands with his thumb before letting them go and then repeating the process. Is it normal for platonic best friends to enjoy playing with each other’s hair? Because he thinks they should really consider adding it to their list of approved forms of physical affection.

Tessa chokes out a surprised laugh, shaking away whatever funk she’d momentarily slipped into, “Yeah. We’re good.”

“I knew it,” He grins, pleased with himself. Chiddy may have scoffed and claimed his idea was bullshit, but Scott knew what Tessa needed. He always does.

“Oh, Scott,” She lets out a little laugh, sighing as she shakes her head, “If only you did know.”

An idea strikes him, a chance to give her a taste of her own medicine, and Scott rolls away and sits up, forcing himself to pull away from the warmth and comfort of her body to get off the bed and pretend to look around for his stuff.

“What are you doing?” Tessa sits up with a frown, tucking her legs underneath herself to preserve her modesty and grabbing the accent pillow she’d hit him with to place over her lap for added protection. She looks both adorable and sexy, all rumpled with a head full of wild sex-hair and her lip jutting out in a pout that he wants to capture with his teeth, and it takes everything inside of him to keep up the ruse.

"I’m making sure I have everything before I go. Enjoy the rest of the pizza, Virtch. I hope your work stuff doesn’t keep you up too late.” He moves as if to head towards the door, but he barely takes a step before she speaks – the sadness in her voice almost breaking him.

“You’re leaving?”

“Isn’t that what’s supposed to happen?” He turns around, raising his eyebrow at her even though his voice is gentle, “That’s what you did.”

“That was different.” Her frown deepens and she looks away, refusing to elaborate.

He walks back towards her, coming to a stop when his thighs bump against the side of the mattress, “Do you want me to stay?” _Please say yes_ , he silently begs, holding his breath as he waits for her answer.

“Well…” Tessa pretends to mull it over, but he can see it in her face that she wants him to, “You did bring me dinner and wine. I probably have time to watch an episode or two of _Friends_ before I get back to work, if you want.”

He grins and grabs her hand, making her cry out in surprised laughter when he tugs her onto her knees and into his arms for a hug. “You sure know the way to a man’s heart! How can I refuse?”

“I’m just saying,” She wraps her arms around his shoulders and tucks her face into his neck, and he can feel her smiling against him, “You don’t have to go straight away, if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t want to,” He grins, lifting her the rest of the way off the bed and setting her down on her feet, making sure she’s stable before letting go, “I’ll stay and watch _Friends_ with you as long as you let me.”

“Forever?” She jokes, looking innocent and beautiful and perfect as she tugs the hem of her sweater as far down the tops of her thighs as she can, bouncing on the balls of her feet and smiling hopefully up at him.

“I think Jordan might get angry if we hog the TV forever, but slightly less than that should be fine.”

“Deal.”

While Tessa gets dressed Scott heads back downstairs to turn on the TV and queue up the show, heating up some of the pizza while he’s at it and pouring them both more wine. When he finds the half-eaten bar of dark chocolate in the freezer, he adds that to the pile as well. All the perfect elements to create an impromptu picnic in the living room.

He feels happier than he has in a long time, almost as happy as he was after they won their gold medal, and he knows there’s an extra spring in his step as he moves about her kitchen that probably looks ridiculous, but that he can’t be bothered to rein in.

Tonight went a million times better than he could have expected and he was able to make things right with Tess – why shouldn’t he feel celebratory?

Now everything can finally go back to normal.


	11. get your head in the game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything is absolutely peachy after Scott reciprocates and totally back to normal. Nothing to see here. 
> 
> Also, there's another hockey game.

** get your head in the game **

****

“Alright, Hannah-banana, are you ready to try a real swing for the first time?” Scott double-checks Hannah’s coat, making sure it’s still zipped up to her chin and not riding up anywhere, and pulls her thick hat down snug over her ears, before setting her down inside the red baby swing. There isn’t as much snow on the ground as there was a month ago when he got home from the Games, and in a few places little green plants are starting to peek out – testing whether or not spring is near – but it’s still only five degrees today, and the park is practically empty.

He tucks her stuffed dragon into the seat with her, both because she hates to be without it and for added back support, and Hannah’s face breaks out in a delighted smile when he starts pushing the swing, her chubby hands eagerly reaching out for him when he kneels down in front of her and boops her feet with his nose every time she swings towards him. Scott laughs along with her, grinning as her contagious excitement infects him as well.

“I knew you’d love it, kiddo!” He tickles her neck and giggles when she does, loving the little dimple that appears at the corner of her mouth. “We needed to get out of the house. Your Uncle Jeff doesn’t seem to understand boundaries when he has his boyfriend over.” Shuddering at the memory of what he’d walked in on in the kitchen that morning (he’s going to have to throw that spatula away the second he gets home), Scott tries to push the mental image out of his brain. He’s happy for Jeff, of course he is, but he could have done without the direct evidence of exactly how _happy_ Jeff really is. “And your Uncle Chiddy wasn’t exactly being very quiet, either. He thinks they’re being so sneaky and that none of us have any idea Liz is there, but we _know_ , don’t we, Han?”

Hannah babbles a bunch of nonsense and he takes that as her agreeing with him.

The bachelor pad has officially become Love Island in the Sky, and it’s not that Scott is jealous of his friends and their new relationships or how everything seems to be working out so well for them in the love department, because he absolutely isn’t, it’s just that he misses when it was just him and his buddies hanging out and livin’ it up. Their real-life male version of _Sex in the City_ has somehow turned into a kooky _Full House_ episode without any warning.

(He’s definitely playing cool, suave Uncle Jesse in this remake though, because there’s no fucking way he’d let himself turn into dorky Uncle Joey.)

“Good thing we’re meeting up with Tess for lunch today, eh? I think we’re gonna have to steer clear of the apartment for a few more hours at least.”

Hannah looks up at the sound of Tessa’s name, as if she recognizes it, and smiles – something he’ll have to remember to mention to T later. They’ve been loving watching Hannah hit each milestone together, they’re coming up so much quicker now with each passing month, and knowing the little girl is starting to recognize her name will send her over the moon.

It's amazing and wonderful how much Hannah and Tessa adore each other and how they’ve bonded in the last six months. It’s such a relief, too, knowing that Hannah has someone else to look up to and learn from other than three rowdy guys. She really is the best godmother he could have asked for for his daughter. It's almost too bad that she isn't Hannah's real mom, but that thought feels uncharitable towards Whitney somehow, so Scott brushes it aside.

“You excited to see her?” He squeezes Hannah’s thighs and she laughs, kicking her little legs like she's trying to run, but only succeeding in sending the swing off-kilter, forcing Scott to grab the chains and fix its path before pushing her again, “Me too, sweetheart.”

Excited. And nervous. It’ll be the first time he’s seen Tessa since he showed up at her house and _reciprocated_ a week ago. She’s been so wrapped up in helping with the big case at work that she’s barely had time to breathe (her own words) and even today she said she could only spare twenty minutes to grab a quick bite at the food truck that’s usually parked on the curb by her office. And for some strange reason, he’s got this knotted up ball of anxiety sitting low in his gut at the thought of seeing her.

Not because things have been weird again – in fact, they’ve been the exact opposite (take that, Chiddy!) – but because he can’t seem to stop thinking about what happened and he’s afraid she’s going to find out where his thoughts have been. Which is really inconvenient because they’re both supposed to have moved past all of that now. Everything was supposed to get back to normal after he evened out the score, but instead it all feels so… different.

It’s as if his body is still reeling with the after-effects of being with her. His skin lighting up with the memories at the most inopportune times. Sunday while he was doing laundry he came across a t-shirt of his that she’d borrowed and found himself smelling the collar where her scent still lingered without realizing what he was doing. Wednesday she’d mentioned that she was finishing off the last of the veggie pizza he’d taken her and he stood frozen in his kitchen for a solid ten minutes stuck in flashbacks. And two days ago she’d had the nerve to innocently FaceTime him while eating a popsicle she’d found tucked away in the back of her freezer and he’d been half-hard for the rest of the night.

It’s a problem! One that he has absolutely no idea how to handle because it’s not something he’s ever had to deal with before. He's always moved on easily the day after his previous hook-ups. Sometimes the night after. There must be a glitch in his system this time. Some sort of homing beacon that got set off because he hadn’t had sex in so long and now has latched itself onto Tessa.

Scott shakes his head free of that embarrassing thought (how mortifying would it be if his best friend found out he kept breaking the Platonic Thoughts Only rule!?). 

But other than his pesky _above-average_ problem that keeps popping up, he’s feeling pretty good about things over-all. He hasn’t regretted his decision for even a second, even if it does keep repeating itself in his dreams, and he’s pretty sure Tess doesn’t regret it either. And once he figures out how to regain control over himself, things will be even _better_. He just has to carry on acting like nothing’s changed and pretend he doesn’t know what she looks like naked.

Easy-peasy.

“She’s really cute.”

Scott shields his eyes from the sunlight beginning to peek through the grey clouds and looks up to find a pretty young woman standing close-by, smiling down at him and Hannah. There’s a little boy, probably around five or six, tugging on the hem of her purple coat, trying to drag her towards the wooden castle playground, but she ignores him in favor of smiling at Scott again.

"Thank you.” He gives her a polite smile and turns back to his daughter, pushing the swing again that had almost come to a stop and hoping that the woman will take the hint. Hannah’s babbling again, and he’s much more interested in what she has to say than some stranger.

“Her dad’s pretty cute, too," She adds, her voice dripping with honey, "You’re Scott Moir, right?”

“Hmm?” He glances back at the woman, not sure why she seems to be annoyed at his slow response until it registers what she said, then mutters, “Oh, that’s nice, thanks.”

_What’s her problem?_ Scott continues to kneel awkwardly in front of Hannah’s swing while the woman stands there for a few more seconds, looking down at him and impatiently tapping the toe of her leather boot. _Can’t she see I’m busy?_

The woman clears her throat, obviously trying to give him a hint that he purposely ignores, before finally scoffing and walking away, and Scott breathes a sigh of relief once she’s on the playground with her son, his shoulders losing their tension. He only has a few more minutes to play with Hannah before he’s got to meet up with Tess and he can’t be late for that, he doesn’t have time to entertain bad attempts at flirting from strangers – especially strangers that are only interested in him because of his name - he has better things to do. And who tries to pick up dads at a park, anyway? It seems like a weird hunting ground for a date when chances are the adults you’d come across are already married.

Hannah brushes away his annoyance by starting to smack her lips together to make kissy-noises – a talent she’d discovered in the last week, egged on by her innocent fascination with every new sound she learns to make, and that never fails to make Scott’s heart burst with how adorable it is – and he shakes his head and laughs before smothering her in kisses.

“Come on, kiddo, we’d better get going.”

“Da-da!” She squeals, leaning forward to suck on the back of her hand where it’s tightly clasped around the edge of the swing, and Scott sucks in a gasp of air before holding his breath and waiting to see if she’ll say it again. She’s been making a lot of repeat sounds the past couple of months, especially ba-ba (he swears she knows that means bottle, whatever the books might say otherwise), but she’s never said Dada so clearly before.

He’s going to start crying in a children’s park.

“What was that, Hannah-banana?” He gently prods, hoping to coax it out of her again, “Did you say Dada?”

“Da-da-da-da,” She continues, happily gnawing on the back of her hand, and Scott huffs out a breathless laugh. Okay, so not _quite_ his name yet, but it had been so close! And that deserves a reward.

Wiping the moisture away from his eyes, he scoops her out of the swing he tosses her high up in the air – an act that never fails to make Chiddy nervous, but one that she loves – laughing along with her when she giggles with joy and holds her arms out to him with a giant smile.

“Da-da! Da-da!”

“That’s right, baby girl,” He grins, tucking her into his side and smothering her rosy cheeks with more kisses, “You keep on saying da-da as much as you want. I’ll be right here, ready to answer.” He presses a quick kiss to her forehead over her hat, and closes his eyes, “I’ll always be right here.”

****

“So you see how you have two tens and a nine in your hand? If you combine that with the ten and the nine from the dealer, you have a full house.” Tessa gestures to the cards laid out in the middle of the green felt table and Nikita faithfully follows her direction, nodding to himself as if he’s slowly beginning to understand. The poor bastard has spent the better part of the last hour pestering Tessa for poker lessons, and Scott might feel bad for the guy if it weren’t so totally annoying.

It’s like he’s forgotten everything he knows about poker, even though he’s played with them at least a dozen times, and Scott has a sneaking suspicion that it’s entirely the result of Tessa’s willingness to sit next to him and walk him through all the steps. The guy just doesn’t know when to let his hope for a date with her die. Scott’s been watching them from across the table all night as Nikita inches his chair closer and closer, barely paying attention to his own cards while Tessa patiently educates his teammate on the intricacies of a game Scott _knows_ he already knows how to play. Rudely monopolizing her time and attention on her first night after wrapping up her law firm's big case. 

“So I don’t need to worry about the rest of the cards in my hand?” He asks, leaning into her side and tilting his cards towards her so that she can get a second look, and Scott watches Tessa stifle a surreptitious little sigh before she smiles sweetly and responds.

“No, you probably won’t do any better than a full house this round, but that’s okay because a full house is pretty good.” She pats his arm and leans away from him, and when her eyes find Scott’s he wordlessly gestures _can you believe this guy?_ – making Tessa giggle under her breath.

“This is boring,” Jeff yawns and tosses his cards face down on the table before cracking open a beer, “How are we supposed to play if Nikita reveals what he has at the beginning of every round? I haven’t had a chance to win anything and Justin and I are trying to save up for a trip to the Bahamas this summer. Help me out, here!”

“Sorry,” Tessa blushes and leans across the table to hand him her cards to re-shuffle and deal. Scott’s eyes fall unwillingly to where her blouse droops open at the top, her ivory bra peeking out from underneath the silky white fabric, drawing his gaze like a magnet. “He’s just trying to become a better player so you’ll all stop robbing him blind every time we play.”

"Virtch, _you_ rob him blind,” Scott snorts, forcing himself to tear his eyes away from her chest and hoping she didn’t notice his slip in concentration. _Remember when she let you touch those?_ His brain supplies unhelpfully, and Scott makes a point of focusing instead on the new cards being dealt by Jeff. They’ve only made it all the way around the table once tonight, each hand having been interrupted by Nikita asking another stupid question and revealing either what he or Tessa has and ruining the round, and he’s getting as sick of it as everyone else is.

“I do not!” She protests loudly before turning to Nikita with a bashful look, “Do I?”

“Yeah,” He laughs, “But I don’t mind when you do it. You can take whatever you want from me.”

Scott watches with a growing scowl as Nikita places his hand on Tessa’s thigh under the table and smiles at her – a dopey, lovesick look that Scott would really love to wipe off his face. Or punch off, given the blatantly inappropriate subtext in his statement. That kind of talk is unacceptable in his house, and he makes a mental note to pull Nikita aside later and tell him to knock it off, otherwise he won’t be invited back.

Tessa smiles politely back at him and pats his hand where it’s still resting on her leg, not pushing it away like Scott’s expecting her to. Nikita's eyes flit towards her chest for half a second, and the cards Scott was holding go flying in a disastrous whirlwind.

"Dude!” Chiddy swats the rectangular projectiles away from his face, sending a few of them onto the floor, and glares at Scott – raising his eyebrows in a way that’s entirely too suspicious when he realizes where Scott had been looking.

“Sorry! I’m sorry. I lost control – my bad.” Scott scrambles to pick up the cards, mentally berating himself for losing his concentration and letting himself get distracted by what’s going on across the table. Again.

It’s been a struggle all night and his friends are beginning to notice. They’re all used to losing to Tessa, of course, but usually Scott comes out fairly even or a few bucks on the plus side. Tonight, though, he’s been losing. A lot. And it’s all because his stupid teammate can’t seem to respect his best friend’s boundaries. How is he supposed to concentrate on poker when he has to keep both eyes on Nikita to make sure he doesn’t make Tessa uncomfortable? The second his flirting crosses the line into harassment, Scott has to catch it so that he can toss the guy out onto the curb.

That’s what friends are for.

“Are you okay?” Chiddy asks, quiet enough not to attract the attention of everyone else around the table, and Scott glances over to make sure Tessa's engaged in a lively conversation with Matt before answering.

“Don’t you think Nikita’s being a little aggressive with T tonight?”

Chiddy looks at the two of them and his face scrunches up in confusion. “No? I haven’t noticed anything unusual. He’s always had a crush on her – you know that. It’s harmless.”

“It doesn’t seem so harmless tonight,” Scott mutters, tossing a few chips into the middle of the table without checking what color they are or even glancing at his hand. He might have jack squat for all he knows, but he bets anyway.

Chiddy snorts, “I wonder why.”

Sitting back up and placing his own bet, he clearly ends the conversation, so Scott goes back to observing his teammate and his friend. Chiddy might not have noticed anything amiss, but Scott’s not going to be caught lacking when Tessa might need him.

“A royal flush!” Justin crows in triumph, laying down his cards and scooping up his winnings, “Bahamas here we come!”

“Nice, babe!” Jeff cheers and gives his boyfriend a high-five, the two of them gloating over Justin’s winnings, and Scott’s stunned to realize he missed an entire round again and is out another two hundred bucks. He really can’t let Nikita sit next to Tessa next time, both for the sake of his sanity and his wallet. Whoever decided to shuffle the seating arrangements tonight must have done it with the sole intention of fucking up his gameplay.

The monitor lights up on the kitchen counter as Hannah begins to cry, and Scott could not be more grateful for her timing. He could really use a break. “Sorry, guys, she’s been waking up in the middle of the night lately. I’ll be right back.”

“Can I get her?” Tessa jumps up eagerly without giving him a chance to move very far, “I’ve been so busy with work I haven’t had nearly enough time with her lately. Is that okay?”

“Sure,” He shrugs, trying not to give away just how ridiculously happy her request makes him feel, “If she seems fully awake just bring her back out here and she can hang out with us.”

“Okay!”

He doesn’t watch her walk away, because that would be silly and sentimental and Chiddy and Jeff would definitely notice and gossip about it later, but he does pay attention to the sound of her feet padding down the hallway and the nursery door opening and closing. And when Tessa’s voice comes through on the monitor, her gentle words calming Hannah down as well as a few notes of a song being sung that she’d be embarrassed to know they heard, he can’t stop himself from beaming at the cards in his hand.

“Tessa’s really great with her, isn’t she?” Matt comments idly, thumbing his small, but respectable pile of chips, “Sydney never wanted kids. It didn’t used to bother me when we were together, but now I’m glad we broke up. I think I want at least one.”

“I’m a big fan,” Scott replies, and whether he means about Tessa or about children, he doesn’t know. Probably both. Now that he's got one, he can't imagine life any other way (that's true for both children and Tessa).

The sound of Hannah’s voice in person, not through the monitor, alerts them to Tessa’s return, and they all turn around to see her carrying in a bundle of fuzzy pink pajamas – the little girl clinging to a strand of Tessa’s hair like her life depends on it and staring at them all with wide, hazel eyes before finally landing on him.

“Da-da-da-da-da-da-da…” Hannah plays with the sound, repeating it over and over – occasionally interspersed with the smacking noise of her almost-kisses – and Tessa laughs in delight.

“Is she saying Dada?” She grins at him and Scott beams proudly back at her, puffing out his chest a little. “How long has that been going on? Why didn’t you say anything? Is she saying anything else? How many other milestones have I missed?”

“Not quite, I forgot to tell you at lunch the other day, but she’s figured out her D sounds. We’re working on turning it into a real Dada, aren’t we, sweetheart?” Scott tickles Hannah’s feet as Tessa passes him by, taking her around the table to sit back down in her seat – her own cards and chips totally forgotten. 

He's a little disappointed that she isn't sitting next to him, but getting a front row seat to their interactions from across the table isn't a bad consolation prize. 

Matt immediately leans in to coo at Hannah, capturing the hand that isn’t currently still wrapped around Tessa’s dark hair with his finger and waving it around, and Scott takes a second to absorb the tableau in front of him while the game takes a backseat to everything else. Tessa snuggling Hannah, her smiles full of love and adoration, and his daughter looking perfectly at home in her arms. If it were possible for hearts to burst into a shower of confetti, Scott’s pretty sure his would have just exploded.

Thank god everything's back to normal between them. Scott would never have been able to forgive himself if that night in Pyeongchang had permanently screwed everything up and missed out on having all of this.

"They make a cute pair,” Jeff jerks his head towards Tessa and Scott nods. Jeff certainly won’t hear any argument from him. “Have you thought about setting them up?”

That brings him up short. Does he mean set them up on some sort of godmother/goddaughter playdate? That's not be a bad idea, although it’s kind of a random suggestion and a weird way to phrase it. “Uh… what?”

Jeff cocks his head at him, furrowing his brow, “Tess and Matt. You should set them up. They seem like they’re into each other.”

The gears in Scott’s brain grind to a halt. Sirens going off loudly in his ears as he gapes at Jeff, then looks at Tessa and Matt in abject horror. _Into_ each other? The thought had never occurred to him.

But… Matt _is_ leaning in pretty close, and perpetually happy Nikita is glaring at him, and they aresharing smiles over Hannah… and there had been that comment about Matt wanting kids and oh god – is he holding Tessa’s hand where it’s resting on Hannah’s foot?

“No.” Scott states emphatically. His vehement refusal clearly taking Jeff by surprise. "No I haven’t. I don’t think Tess is into him. You’re misreading things.”

"Maybe,” Jeff shrugs nonchalantly, glancing at Chiddy before continuing, “But think about it. It’s been a while since Tess dated anybody seriously, and he’s a nice guy. She’s probably afraid to pursue it because you always chase away any of your friends that get too close to her, but if you told her you wouldn’t mind I think there could be something special there.”

“Tess doesn’t date hockey players.” Scott sits there, stunned, his words monotone and flat. 

“So you say,” Jeff snorts, “But I think she’d make an exception to her rule for one or two of them.”

Tessa throws her head back and laughs at something Matt says, the blonde man smiling at her with what can only be called affection, and Scott promptly loses his appetite. Somewhere, deep in the recesses of his mind, he tries to pull up the file labeled 'how to be a supportive friend' so that he can react to this development appropriately and be supportive, but he's struggling to remember any of the correct behavior at the moment. Everything has been so perfect lately, why would she possibly want to change it? What could be missing in her life that _Matt_ could provide? 

He swallows thickly and looks back at Jeff, shifting awkwardly under his friend's appraisal, “You really think there’s something between them?”

“I think I wouldn’t be surprised if there were.”

Jeff’s idle postulating hits Scott like a ton of bricks, knocking the air right out of his chest and making him instantly suspicious of every interaction Matt and Tessa have ever had. He doesn’t want to think there’s anything to it (surely Tessa would have told him, right? Friends tell each other who they have crushes on), but as he watches them laugh together over something Hannah does, his stomach sinks to the floor. Could it be possible they’ve been developing feelings for each other right under his nose?

The thought haunts him for the rest of the night and well into the morning until he's finally able to uneasily dismiss it - banking on the fact that Tessa wouldn't have let him do what he did if she was seeing someone else and praying that if she ever did develop feelings for someone, he'd be the first to know. 

****

There are a lot of jokes about the violent side of hockey games, and every single player has heard them all at least once (this week). The jokes come from everyone in their life from their families to their friends to strangers on the street who think that they’re being clever. It’s a never-ending comedy show at their expense.

“I went to a fight and a hockey game broke out.”

“What's the difference between a hockey game and a boxing match? In a hockey game, the fights are real.”

“How many teeth does a hockey player have? Don’t you mean tooth?”

And on and on and on.

The point is, Scott knows the stereotype and does his best not to give into it (he’s actually pretty fond of the idea of keeping all his teeth). Any fights he’s been a part of have been entirely justified and not actually very violent (except that one three years ago with the LA Kings player, but that doesn’t count – he deserved it). But tonight’s game against the Buffalo Sabres has been particularly brutal. It’s as if every time the Leafs get a goal, the Sabres feel the need to take it out on them by picking a fight instead of working harder to score like a decent team would do.

And they don’t just pick a fight, oh no, it’s an all-out brawl lead by their absolute beast of a defenseman, Marco Scandella. A man who Scott knows off the ice looks like your friendly neighbor – the kind of guy who would help carry in your groceries and who probably owns a really adorable dog and who you feel safe having walk you home at night – but on the ice he’s a tyrant. Smashing into everybody and hitting the puck with enough force to almost shatter the tempered glass walls. A one man tank with a single mission: kill.

It’s terrifying.

“I hate that guy, man,” Marner squirts a healthy amount of Gatorade into his mouth, the two of them taking advantage of every tiny break they have to get rehydrated before having to face Scandella again. The man requires every ounce of concentration to dodge and avoid. “I can’t believe the ref hasn’t thrown him out yet.”

“I swear to god he must have memorized the rules just so that he knew exactly what lines he couldn’t cross before stepping onto the ice.” Scott groans, shifting in his seat a little to try and ease the ache in his ribs. He’s already had one confrontation with the guy (an ice bath is definitely in his future) and he’ll do just about anything to avoid another. 

Scandella smashes into Nylander, sending him sprawling across the ice, and there’s a collective groan in the audience as he struggles to his feet – Scandella having already blown past him with the puck. Not pausing for a second to see if he’d done any real damage or not.

Beside them Babcock is screaming at the refs, gesticulating wildly as he tries to call for a foul, but the refs let it go, declaring it to be a clean hit and earning a lot of booing from the crowd of angry Leafs fans. If Scandella isn’t careful, he’s going to bring the wrath of the entire Air Canada Centre down on his head.

As much as hockey players aren’t exactly known for their passivity, hockey _fans_ can be even worse. Although tonight Scott might just have to join them.

“I want to crush these guys,” Babs shouts at them, “Get back out there and get us up a few more points. I don’t want to leave any doubt that the Leafs can’t be intimidated by this kind of behavior!”

“Yes, sir!”

Marner takes the ice first and Scott follows close behind, the two of them getting swept back up into the maelstrom without a chance to reorient themselves or even breathe. It’s the definition of chaos out there and Scott’s head is spinning as he tries to find the puck amidst all the skates and sticks.

The Leafs are up three to two, but Scott knows they’re itching for more just like their coach is. The desire to trounce the Sabres and teach them a lesson or two driving them all forward and filling their bodies with an extra surge of adrenaline. “Cheaters should never prosper,” seems to be the subliminal message in the looks they give each other, and Scott knows they’re going to win this. They want it too much not to.

There’s a mad scramble as Matt passes the puck to Marner, who takes off down the ice as fast as he can, but Scandella and a few of his teammates head right for him – forcing him to back off and take the shot from too far out, sending it wide of the goal.

Everyone rushes towards the Sabre’s side of the ice, each of them hoping to be the one to get the puck away from the boards, and Scott takes off as fast as lightning to try and beat out the Sabres who are currently converging on that spot.

He can see the puck between the feet of Jack Eichel, a good player for the Sabres, but still young and inexperienced, and it’s the only opening he needs. It should be easy enough to steal the puck from him and then if he gets his shot right he can slip it in past the goaltender at the top left of the net, just under the crossbar.

“I got it!” Matt shouts at him from somewhere over his left shoulder, but Scott resolutely ignores his teammate (maybe he still has a tiny grudge from two nights ago, so sue him) in his relentless pursuit. “Scott, wait, don’t -!”

He shifts direction, twisting around to dive in for the steal. There’s a giant blur of white, navy, and yellow heading like an overpowered train engine in his direction, and in the distance he hears someone screaming his name before the blur makes contact.

There’s a sickening _whack!_ that reverberates around his skull, his head spinning as his body does a one-eighty flip before smashing into the ice, and then everything goes black.

“Ma’am, as I told you before, I cannot legally tell you any details about Mr. Moir’s condition because you are not family.”

“And I told YOU that your definition of family sucks! He’s my best friend and he just suffered a traumatic brain injury and I need to know if he’s going to be okay and YOU are going to tell me what I want to know RIGHT. NOW!"

Scott rouses to the sound of Tessa’s Mad Voice, the rarity of its appearance enough to shake him from whatever stupor he’d been in, and slowly blinks his eyes open. They’re only open for a second though before he quickly rethinks that decision and squeezes them shut tight. Wherever he is, the lights seem to have been turned up to one-thousand watts or something and it’s excruciating to look at. His head is pounding like someone took a sledgehammer to it, or maybe ran over it with a car, and he’s pretty sure he’s seconds away from throwing up.

Whatever party he went to last night clearly did a number on him, because this is the worst hangover he’s ever had by far.

His head throbs and he opens his mouth to ask for ibuprofen or Tylenol or morphine or the sweet release of death, hoping that Tessa is standing somewhere nearby, but vomits spectacularly over the side of the bed instead.

“ _Scott!”_

“Mr. Moir!”

“Here,” A kind, elderly voice says from somewhere by his shoulder, gently rubbing his back and helping him as he empties the contents of his stomach, “I’ve got a bucket for you, don’t worry about the mess – this kind of reaction is totally normal.”

Scott clamps his mouth shut, breathing resolutely through his nose and forcing himself not to throw up anymore, and finally manages to pry his eyes open enough to look around. The first thing he sees is an older woman who must be a nurse dutifully cleaning up his mess (do you leave tips for nurses? Because he owes her a big one), followed by a very serious looking doctor, his assistant coach, and Tessa – twisting her hands together and looking paler than he’s ever seen her.

Okay… so this isn’t the result of partying too hard then.

“What happened?” He croaks, his throat sore from throwing up, and tries to sit up – flopping back onto the pillows when that proves to be the wrong decision for his head.

“Oh, Scott, it was awful!” Tessa rushes to his side, sidestepping the disapproving doctor and gripping his hand so tight he can feel the circulation being cut off. “That ogre Scandella crashed right into you on purpose. He knew exactly what he was doing by raising his arm at the level of your head – it was obscene! How the NHL allows players like that is beyond me. He should be booked for assault. Maybe I can get Jordan to draw up charges.”

“Scandella?” The name sounds familiar, but he’s drawing a blank right now. In fact, he can’t remember anything about the game at all, which sounds like it may be a good thing if it’s as horrific as she says. The last thing he remembers with any clarity is putting Hannah to bed the night before. They’d read _Corduroy_ , a book about a bear in green overalls, and he’d thought about getting Hannah her own overalls to match.

There’s nothing in his head about a hockey game.

“The defenseman for the Sabres,” Tessa explains, clenching her right hand even tighter around his and running her left hand almost absentmindedly over his head and shoulder – as if checking him for further injury – and brushing her fingers through his hair, “You don’t remember? He was on a one man mission to take out your entire team before the refs threw him out for his blatant attack on you.”

“I don’t remember,” Scott mumbles, shielding his eyes against the intrusive lights and tilting his head towards Tessa to encourage her to continue playing with his hair. It helps with the pain somehow, “But I’m glad he got thrown out. Did we win?”

“Scott you have a _head injury!_ Who cares if you won!?”

“But did we though?”

“Five to two,” His assistant coach supplies helpfully from somewhere across the room, and he's able to somehow manage a half-smile. If he had to be injured, he’s glad it happened on a night with a win like that.

The doctor clears his throat, interrupting their conversation, and Scott opens his eyes again just in time to see Tessa turn to him with that serious look on her face that means she’s intensely focusing on every word the man says.

“Would you like me to clear the room before I begin?” The doctor asks, his gaze fixed on Tessa who defiantly sticks up her chin and holds onto tighter to Scott, and Scott chuckles and nods.

“Anything you have to say, Tess can hear. She’ll probably pay better attention than I will, anyway.”

“Fine,” The man frowns in response to Tessa’s triumphant smirk, but begins speaking, “Mr. Moir, I’m Dr. O’Neill and you’re in Toronto General Hospital. You’ve suffered a traumatic head injury, the result, as Miss Virtue mentioned, of a rather significant collision in a hockey game. When the head is moved violently, the brain moves around in the skull. The heaviest part of the brain puts a lot of pressure on the brainstem, which can be twisted and pulled during the blow as the rest of the brain moves out of place. That twisting and pulling can cause brain circuits to break, or lose their insulation, or get kinked up, and that shuts off parts of the brain. If the part of the brainstem responsible for consciousness is affected, then you would be knocked out – which is what happened tonight. We’ve done some preliminary tests while you were unconscious, but we’d like to do a few more now that you’re awake to determine the severity of the concussion and make sure there’s nothing more serious going on.”

“More serious?” Tessa swallows loudly, her hand flexing around his, and Scott laces their fingers together to hopefully give her some comfort. She seems to be taking this a lot harder than he is, although maybe that’s because he’s always accepted injuries as being a part of the job. He’s awake and talking, can wiggle all ten fingers and ten toes, and (with a quick run of his tongue around his mouth to confirm) he’s not missing any teeth. It could be worse.

“We want to make sure there isn’t any swelling or internal bleeding.”

What little color had returned to her face drains immediately at the doctor’s words, and Tessa looks as nauseous as he feels when she asks, “What if there is? What does that mean? Will he need surgery?”

“Will I have to shave my head?” Scott cuts in, pretending to be devastated and hoping to lighten the mood a little with his joke, and Tessa retaliates by swatting his shoulder - then immediately looks guilty as hell.

“I’m sorry! That was a reflex. Sorry” She kisses the spot, actually _kisses it better_ , and Scott laughs in spite of his aching head.

“Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it.” Dr. O’Neill shakes his head, scribbling something down on Scott’s chart, “For now let’s get started with some basic neurological testing and we’ll go from there.”

“When can I go home?”

“Scott –“ Tessa interrupts, “You need to rest and stay under observation –“

“When?” He cuts her off, wincing against the bright lights when they hit his eyes at exactly the wrong angle. He hates hospitals, they creep him out. They’re cold and sterile and too bright and he’s at least sixty percent sure they’re haunted (ninety percent on Halloween). The sooner he can escape and go home, the better.

“I’d really like to keep you here overnight for observation,” Dr. O’Neill says slowly, frowning at Scott’s question. But that wasn’t a strict _no_. 

“Like to is different than have to. Can I go after the tests?”

Dr. O’Neill lets out a long, exasperated sigh before nodding. “If we can determine that it is just a concussion then you can go home as long as someone will be there to stay with you and check on you at least every two hours. But I would strongly recommend staying here and –“

"Thank you, Doctor,” Scott swallows down another mouthful of bile and attempts a smile that’s more of a grimace than anything else, “But if I can go home, then that’s what I want to do. I'll recover better there.”

“Do you have someone who can watch you?”

“I have two roommates.”

“And me,” Tessa pipes up, raising her hand high in the air like she’s back in school again, “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay with him. What’s the treatment for a concussion?”

“Lots of rest – both physical and mental. This means avoiding activities that increase any of your symptoms, such as general physical exertion, sports or any vigorous movements, until these activities no longer provoke your symptoms.”

Scott’s stomach plummets to his feet as the word _sports_ settles in. He knows what that means, and he hates it. Doesn’t want to hear the words spoken out loud or his fears confirmed. Would rather pretend everything is fine and show up at practice tomorrow like it’s nothing. But the rational side of him knows he’d only be hurting himself more in the long run. It's not worth the risk. “So I’m out for the rest of the season.”

“Yes,” The doctor confirms, “If you don’t want to risk making your condition worse.”

“Keep him away from the ice, got it,” Tessa nods seriously, apparently oblivious to Scott’s emotional agony at being torn away so abruptly from the sport he loves, “What else?”

“Limit activities that require thinking and mental concentration, such as playing video games, watching TV, reading, texting or using a computer, especially if these activities trigger your symptoms or worsen them. I’m sure you’ll experience headaches –“ Scott snorts at the obvious statement and then immediately regrets it when it makes the pounding in his head worse. “- So take plenty of acetaminophen. Avoid ibuprofen and aspirin, as those medications can increase the risk of bleeding.”

Tessa retrieves a notepad from her purse and scribbles down the instructions religiously, adding bullets and addendums and applying liberal use of the exclamation point. It’s great that she’s taking this so seriously, because all Scott can focus on is the fact that he won’t be able to finish out the season. They only have two more games, just _two_ , before the Stanley Cup play-offs, and now he’ll be forced to watch them from the sidelines just like everybody else. It fucking sucks.

A dark mood descends over him that he both can’t and doesn’t try to shake off, and it follows him through all of the neurological testing Dr. O’Neill puts him through.

Of all the times to get creamed by an opponent, it had to be right before the play-offs. Now his dreams of winning the Olympics AND the Stanley Cup in the same year are up in smoke. Objectively he knows he should be grateful that it wasn’t worse, but he’s never been very good at handling his emotions in the heat of the moment. Especially negative ones. 

Scandella better watch his back next time they play the Sabres, that’s for sure.

“At least it wasn’t right before the Olympics,” Tessa says once he’s back in the hospital room with her and the doctor’s confirmed it’s just a moderate-to-severe concussion and he can go home, as if reading his mind, “I hate that this happened, but I’m so glad it’s at the end of the season when you’ll have a whole summer to recover. Look on the bright side – maybe you won’t have to miss more than two games. You should be fit as a fiddle come fall.”

She hands him his gym bag, apparently having retrieved it before leaving the arena, and goes back to typing away on her phone, shooting off message after message.

“Who are you texting?”

“Matt. I’m letting him know what happened so that he can tell the team what the doctor said. Your assistant coach took off once Dr. O’Neill told him the results, but Matt’s with the team right now so he’ll be quicker at disseminating information. I’m sure Babs will be calling you tomorrow, though, he was pretty worried. Also, your parents called me. Well, they called you first, then me because they knew I'd be with you. I told them all about the concussion and they’re going to drive out tomorrow morning to be with you while I’m at work. It’s pretty icy in Ilderton tonight so they couldn’t leave right away. They said to say they’re sorry they can’t be here. Alma sounded like she was worried sick.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Scott grumbles, irritation surging at the mention of his teammate - overshadowing everything else (although he does promise himself that he'll call his mom first thing in the morning), and he almost tears his bag in his attempt to unzip it - digging through its contents to find his clothes so that they can get out of here.

“Um, yes, you do,” She states, leaving no room for argument, “And even if you didn’t, you can’t possibly try to take care of Hannah like this and Dorothy only works part time. You’ll need extra help until that headache you think you’re hiding goes away.” Her phone pings and she glances down at it, “Matt says he hopes you feel better soon.”

Scott rips off his hospital I.D. bracelet and throws it into the garbage, huffing when it misses the basket and lands pitifully on the floor next to it instead. “Why are you texting him and not Babs directly?”

“Babs has been in direct contact with the doctor and your assistant coach, and Matt called me the second he was off the ice. They’re all worried about you. Chiddy and Jeff have called too. Chiddy can’t leave work yet, but they’ll both be waiting for us when we get to your apartment. I think Jeff’s already doing research on the best food to feed concussion patients and Chiddy’s making sure all the blinds are drawn and only the dimmer lamps are turned on.”

Scott ignores her other comments in favor of asking, “Do you talk to Matt often?”

He’s not sure why he’s making a big deal out of this right now. It’s nothing, he knows it’s nothing, despite what Jeff might think, and Tessa’s allowed to be friends with whoever she wants. Hell, they’re both good friends with Matt, but he’s irritable and angry and disappointed with the sudden turn his life has taken and he needs a target – so Matt it is.

"Sometimes,” Tessa shrugs, “More since he and Sydney broke up. It’s been hard for him. It helps, I think, having a friend to listen and lean on. We all need that sometimes.”

“I’ll bet,” Scott snorts mockingly and tugs the ties of his hospital gown loose, letting it drop to the floor without warning. Satisfied when Tessa’s eyes go round and her mouth forms a perfect O before she catches herself staring and slaps her hand over her eyes with a shout.

"Scott!”

“What?” He grins mischievously, but tries to make his voice sound as innocent as possible. Even going so far as to shrug overdramatically, even though she can’t see him. 

“You can’t just –“

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” Tessa splutters and struggles to form some sort of protest, and Scott chuckles, unable to resist teasing her, “Besides, they left my underwear on when they put me in that hideous thing. I’m totally modest. Why are you making a big deal out of it? Does me being shirtless bother you? Or is it the lack of pants?” She flushes bright red, still covering her face, and Scott grins to himself. _There. Matt who?_ Grabbing the change of clothes from his gym bag, he tugs on his sweatpants and an olive green Henley before clearing his throat – holding back his laughter. “You’re safe to look now.”

Tessa splits her fingers open over one eye, peeking out from behind them to make sure he’s being honest before letting her hand drop back into her lap. For a second he almost thinks she looks disappointed to see him dressed, but then she glares at him and he dismisses it as a trick of the light. “You drive me crazy sometimes!”

“And you should drive me home,” He shoots back, “Can we go please? I want to be in my own bed.”

“You do know you can’t sleep for more than two hours at a time, right?”

“Yes, Dr. Virtue, I know. You can sleep with me just to make sure, if that makes you feel better.”

“Oh, I’m definitely sleeping with you.” Tessa freezes the second the words leave her mouth and they stare at each other in complete silence for a solid five seconds before he bursts out laughing.

“You drive me crazy, Virtch,” He teases, handing over his bag with a playful look and a shrug that says _no exertion allowed, remember?_ and Tessa smiles awkwardly, her cheeks still pink from her accidental innuendo.

“No, I’m driving you home.”

The second they walk through the door of his apartment she becomes all business. Waiting impatiently while he pops into Hannah’s room to give her a goodnight kiss, immediately pushing him into bed – taking his phone away so that he won’t be tempted to look at the screen, setting up a care chart with Jeff and Chiddy, and callings his parents to confirm he’s home and in bed resting.

It’s a miracle she’s here, really, because he knows he’d be a mess without her. Scrambling to figure out what he’s going to do while dealing with persistent head pain and worrying about falling asleep for too long and who will take care of Hannah. The longer he lays in bed thinking about it, tugging the fluffy comforter up to his chin and burrowing in deeper into the mattress, the more he realizes that he owes her big time for this. Whatever she wants he’ll give her, as soon as he’s better. Dinner at that new French restaurant that opened up across town, a boat cruise on Lake Ontario, a free night at that hotel in Niagara that looks down on the Falls, diamonds, rubies, emeralds… He’s rambling, but the point still stands.

Or even that _other_ thing, if she wants him to do that again. They could make it their thing that they do to show gratitude. Wouldn't that be nice? 

Yeah, he wouldn’t mind that one at all.

“Chiddy’s got the baby monitor set up in his room and he said he’ll take care of Hannah if she wakes up so that you and I can focus on your health,” Tessa announces quietly as she walks back into the room, already dressed in one of his t-shirts and a pair of his boxers. It’s possibly the sexiest thing he’s ever seen - even if he's not allowed to think that. “I’ve got more pain pills for you and a glass of water, and I set my alarm to go off every hour and a half. I know the doctor said two hours, but I think we should wake you up more often, just to be safe.”

“Tess,” Scott mumbles, his eyes fluttering closed, “I want to buy you more hot chocolate.”

“Did you hit your head again while I was getting your medication?” She forces him to sit up a little to swallow his pain meds, handing him the cool glass of water while rolling her eyes, “Scott, I swear I was only gone for like five minutes - you were supposed to stay in bed! How hard is it to follow simple instructions?“

“No, no,” He chuckles, falling back onto the pillows, “ _Hot chocolate_.” He wiggles his eyebrows at her, hoping she’ll understand what he’s alluding to, then frowns when even that simple action seems to ache. How is he supposed to make his point when his head refuses to cooperate?

“I don’t know what you –“ She pauses and a slow blush spreads from her cheeks down to her chest as it dawns on her exactly what he’s trying to say – the memory of their conversation at her apartment about trading oral being like buying each other winter beverages resurfacing. “Oh… well… um… the doctor said no physical exertion,” She stammers, moving around to the other side of the bed and plugging in her phone before climbing under the blankets, “Hot chocolate will have to wait. Are you sure Dr. O'Neill accounted for all your symptoms when diagnosing you?”

It’s not a yes, but it’s not a no, either, and that’s good enough for him.

He chuckles quietly and Tessa fidgets restlessly as she tries to get comfortable, jostling him around a bit before finally settling down into one position.

“Hey, Scott?” He opens up his eyes just enough to see her nervously fiddling with one of the pillows, “I know it’s really bad timing, but can I ask you for a favor?”

_Didn’t we just agree no physical exertion right now?_ Oh well, he’ll try, if she wants, but he doesn’t think he’ll be at his best tonight. “Of course, Virtch.”

“Ineedyoutopretendtobemydateandgotoabaseballgamewithmeandmybossonthefifteenth.” The words fly out of her mouth in a dizzying blur of white noise, and Scott turns his head to fully look at her, utterly confused about what the hell she just said.

“Huh?”

“I need you…” Good, “To pretend to be my date,” Unexpected, but okay, “And go to a baseball game with me and my boss on the fifteenth.” Oh, that’s not bad at all. Not the favor he was expecting or maybe hoping for, but it doesn’t sound so bad. He probably owes it to her, too, since he started the whole fake-dating rumor thing at her office anyway. And he can’t deny that there’s a part of him that’s doing a little victory dance at the fact that she asked _him_ and not Matt.

“That’s Jackie Robinson Day,” Scott comments. It’s been too long since he watched that one movie – _42 -_ with Chadwick Boseman, but it was a good film. One that really made him appreciate the famous ball player and the fact that baseball teams honor him on opening day every year. He can’t imagine hockey teams ever doing that, but maybe he can suggest next season they institute a Wayne Gretzky day.

“Um… I didn’t know that,” Tessa says, still picking at the pillow case, “Is that bad? Does that mean you can’t do it? I wouldn’t ask only my boss keeps mentioning you and how amazing you were in Pyeongchang and all I ever hear from him is ‘Tessa, tell Scott this,’ or ‘Tessa, tell Scott that,’ and normally that would drive me crazy, but he is one of the partners at the firm so as frustrating as it is it helps my career to be on good terms with him and if that means going to a little baseball and pretending to date his favorite hockey player then –“

“Tess,” Scott laughs, cutting off her endless stream before it can really pick up speed and he loses her forever, “It’s fine. I’m happy to go. I love baseball. It’ll help keep my mind off the fact that I’m banned from hockey.”

“You don’t mind pretending to be my boyfriend?”

“Any man would be _lucky_ to be your boyfriend. Why would I mind?”

“I just wanted to make sure.”

“Put it on the schedule, Virtch. You, me, and the Blue Jays.”

She makes a pleased little sound in the back of her throat and he smiles, the two of them lapsing into a comfortable silence as she turns off the lamp on the nightstand – bathing them in darkness. He can feel himself drifting off again, the pain medication having finally kicked in enough to take the edge off his headache a bit, so he closes his eyes and settles deeper into the mattress – intending to take advantage of all ninety minutes Tessa allows him before he’s shaken awake.

(It’ll be exactly ninety and not a minute more, he knows.)

He’s almost there, too, when he feels Tessa prop herself up and stare at him. She probably thinks he’s asleep and won’t notice, but it’s like she’s boring holes into the side of his head. He can practically hear the gears in her brain whirring with whatever she’s thinking.

Cracking one eye open, he looks over at her - intending to make some teasing comment - and is shocked instead to find her eyes watering. She looks devastated and suddenly any thoughts of sleep are gone – chased away by the more urgent need to make sure she’s okay.

“I’m not going to die in the middle of the night, Virtch,” He says softly, smiling at her and nudging her arm, “Stop looking at me like that.”

“I can’t help it,” She sniffs, wiping away the tear that breaks free before it can fall onto the pillow, “Every time I close my eyes I see that brute smashing into you again. I… I’ve never been so scared in my whole life.”

“Tess,” He sighs and lifts his arm up, encouraging her to scooch in close to his side and tuck her head under his chin – an offer she immediately accepts. Rubbing her shoulder with his thumb, he presses a soft, reassuring kiss to the top of her head before continuing, “I’m sorry that I scared you. As awful as it was to get hit, I’m sure it was equally awful to watch.”

“It was terrifying. For a second I thought… you weren’t moving, Scott. You went down so hard and then you were just lying there and I thought… I know it’s silly, but for a second I thought I’d just watched you die right in front of me.”

"But you didn’t,” He shakes her shoulder a little bit and when she tilts her head back to look up at him he kisses her forehead, “I’m alive and I’m gonna be okay. Once this headache goes away I’ll be just like new.”

"I know, I just –“ She takes a deep breath, dropping her gaze back to his chest and fiddling with the buttons at the top of his shirt, “I love you, Scott.”

He kisses the top of her head again and brings his other arm up to wrap around her shoulders, holding onto her as tightly as he can manage, “I love you, too, Virtch. I don’t say it enough, but you know that, right? Love you more than anything.”

She’s quiet for a few minutes and he’s just beginning to wonder if she’s fallen asleep when she speaks again, her voice lighter and more playful, “Not more than _anything_. Not more than that bottle of red wine you’ve been saving since your nineteenth birthday, or those street tacos we get on Adelaide sometimes, or your London Knights jersey that I know you think I don’t know is still buried in your Leafs locker for good luck, or –“

“Yes,” He cuts her off with a laugh, “More than all those things. But I know you don’t love me more than your ridiculously expensive mattress that you dragged me to _seven_ stores to buy, or those boots you bought for yourself as a reward for finishing your Bachelor’s degree even though I’d secretly already bought them as a birthday present – I’m still mad at you for that, by the way, I had to come up with a whole new gift! Or the watch you inherited from your Grandma, or more than _Paris_.”

"Hmmm…” She pretends to think it over, tapping her chin where it rests on his chest, before smirking up at him, “You’re right. Definitely not more than Paris.”

Scott digs his fingers into her ribs as punishment for her teasing, laughing when she bursts out in a round of giggles and squirms to get away. He can’t keep it up for very long due to the protests of his head and the fact that she quickly rolls out of reach across the bed, but it’s enough to get Tessa to shout, “Kidding! I’m kidding! I love you more than Paris!”

“See?” He grins cockily, lacing his fingers together underneath his head, “That wasn’t so hard to say.”

“Go to sleep, Scott.” She grumbles, rolling back up against him and tucking herself into his side again. And really, what’s a guy supposed to do with an invitation like that but wrap his arms around her and enjoy the opportunity to snuggle? He’d be an idiot to turn that down.

Pressing his lips to her shoulder, he finally lets himself drift off for real, murmuring sleepily in her ear, “See you in an hour and a half, T,” and falling asleep to her answering hum and the steady sound of her gentle breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you ever really struggle with a chapter because you're just so eager to get on to the next ones? That was this chapter for me. Hopefully it turned out alright! It was edited at 2 AM, as per my god-awful tradition.


	12. one, two, three strikes you’re out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's a little fake-dating between friends?  
> A recipe for disaster.
> 
> Or: Scott and Tessa have a great day and then Tessa freaks out and then Scott panics and just YIKES all around.

** one, two, three strikes you’re out **

****

It’s an unseasonably warm day for mid-April, the sun shining bright in a cloudless sky, birds newly returned from their sojourns south twittering happily in the trees, and plants starting to grow again like little green sprigs of hope and happiness bursting out of the ground.

It’s Scott’s favorite season, and he whistles cheerfully as he walks up Parliament Street towards Tessa’s townhouse with Hannah strapped to his chest – the two of them wearing Blue Jays hoodies like the loyal fans they are. There are a few double-takes from passersby who seem to almost recognize him, but he just pulls his hat down a little lower and continues on his way and thankfully they leave him alone. Strictly speaking, he could have avoided the risk of being stopped for photos or autographs by simply driving his car to pick up Tessa, but the weather was too lovely to dismiss and so he’d opted to take public transportation part of the way and then walk instead. Basking in the sunshine and giving Hannah the chance to get out of the apartment and experience something new.

Walking past the little row of mismatched townhouses that break up an otherwise unremarkable street (pausing to frown at the sign warning of possible construction projects in the future), Scott heads straight towards the last one – its white façade, black accents, and black wrought iron gate as familiar to him as the back of his hand – hoping that Jordan’s reception might be a little friendlier this time. She wasn’t exactly his biggest fan when they’d last chatted on her doorstep, and he can’t deny that he’s nervous.

The doorbell buzzes loud enough to be heard through the glass of the thick front door and only half-a-second passes before he can hear the sound of footsteps. Heels clacking across the hardwood at a pace that can only belong to Tessa’s sister. Giving him no time to prepare for Jordan opening the door with a flourish.

“Hey, Jo!” He greets her with his best, brightest smile and twists a little so that Hannah can look at her, shamelessly banking on the fact that nobody can resist her cute face. “You haven’t met Hannah-banana yet. Say hi, Han!” Scott waves her chubby hand at Jordan, ignoring the fact that it’s full of yoghurt puffs that are slowly staining it purple, and the ice behind Jordan’s frosty eyes instantly melts.

Using your child in self-defense might be frowned upon, but there are some situations when it is absolutely necessary. Orchestrating a move to break some serious tension is one of those times. 

“Hi, Hannah.” She strokes the little girl’s arm and her smile stretches into a wide grin when Hannah smiles gummily back at her. “You’re getting so big! You’ve got a little tooth popping out there.”

“Yeah.” Scott gently pulls on Hannah’s bottom lip with his thumb, showing off her latest milestone. “It just broke through two days ago. Her first one!”

“How exciting!” Jordan grins, any trace of lingering resentment gone. “I remember when Poppy got her first tooth. Casey inundated us with picture after picture. Like he was convinced the whole family needed to see documentation of every stage of growth. Which, of course, my mom only encouraged.”

“That’s funny,” Scott laughs along with her, but privately makes a mental note to delete the texts he was planning to send to his family’s group chat and deciding to send them only to his parents instead. “So is Tess here? I told her I’d pick her up at three.”

“She’s here,” Jordan nods and steps aside, “Come on in. She said she needed to fix her ponytail and ran back upstairs so she might be a minute. I swear she spent half the morning getting ready. This game must be really important to her.”

“It’s her boss that’s so important,” Scott pulls a ridiculous face at Hannah in the big entryway mirror, making her giggle, “He’s a big hockey fan so he invited us. It’s a good opportunity for Tess to make her name memorable for when she’s applying for a lawyer position after law school.”

Jordan heads back towards the kitchen and Scott tags along, listening for the sound of Tessa upstairs.

“I guess I should thank you for doing this for her. It’s not fair, but sometimes you have to do everything you can to get ahead in this business. Especially as a woman.” Jordan shudders and Scott sympathetically pats her hand. He can remember all the stories Tessa would tell him during Jordan’s law school days – all the inane and asinine and outright sexist comments her male colleagues would say to her. There were a number of times he’d actually gotten in his car with the intention of teaching those boys a lesson, only to be stopped by Tessa and Jordan strong-arming him back into the house. He hates the thought of Tess having to go through any of that.

“Anything I can do to help out T and make her life easier, I’m happy to do.”

“I know,” Jordan smiles, moving her hand out from under his and patting the top of it, “You’re a good friend to her. Idiotic sometimes, but a good friend.”

“Thank you?” He cocks his head, his voice tilting upwards at the end – turning the statement into a question – and Jordan laughs.

“You’re welcome.”

Tessa comes flying down the stairs and around the corner, white sneakers in one hand, sunglasses, chapstick, and her favorite Chanel purse in the other. Her ponytail now perfectly perky and swishing back and forth like a pendulum – capturing Hannah’s devoted attention.

“Scott!” She sounds surprised to see him, skidding to a stop on the hardwood floor in front of Jordan, “You’re actually here on time! Hey, Hannah-banana,” She caresses Hannah’s cheek and drops a kiss on her forehead, ignoring Scott’s affronted look.

“What do you mean _on time_? When am I ever late?”

Tessa and Jordan slowly look at each other, then break out in the exact same laugh at the exact same time. Tossing their heads back and holding one hand over their stomachs. He’d be crossing his arms and pouting if his daughter wasn’t currently in the way, but he makes do by putting his hands on his waist and glaring equally at both of them.

“That’s a good one, Scotty,” Jordan snorts elegantly, retrieving a mug from the cupboard and moving about the kitchen collecting everything she needs to make her favorite tea, and Tessa giggles – sharing a significant look with her sister while flicking the electric kettle on.

“Don’t call me that, _Jordy_ ,” He shoots back, smirking triumphantly when Jordan grimaces at the old childhood nickname. Serves her right for calling him the one nickname he loathes above all others. “And I don’t think I’m late that often.”

“You just keep thinkin’, Butch,” Jordan quips, the quote from one of her favorite movies falling naturally off her tongue, “That’s what you’re good at.”

Scott can’t help but smile at the reminder of her Robert Redford phase. Something she denies ever existed but that he and Tessa used to tease her about constantly when she was sixteen and had a poster of him from _Somewhere in Time_ up on her wall. They’d also strongly suspected that he was the reason she’d had a Great Gatsby themed party for her twenty-first birthday, although they’d been too nice to mention it at the time.

(Thankfully no swimming pools were involved that night.)

Someday he should really surprise her by taking both of them to the Sundance Film Festival in Utah. Maybe find a way for Jordan to meet her hero, if he can.

“Come on,” Tessa ties her shoelaces in neat little bows and puts on two coats of the chapstick before shoving it inside her purse, gesturing towards the door with her thumb, “Let’s get going. I don’t want to risk being late to meet up with Mr. Schmidt and his wife. The last thing I need is to make a bad impression today.”

“On that note,” Scott smiles, helping her put her arms through her jacket before grabbing her hat off the counter and dramatically plopping it on top of her head, “You ready for a fantastic fake date? I’m gonna knock your pretend socks off, T.”

“ _Fake_ date?” Jordan arches both her eyebrows at Tessa, whose look seems to say, _I’ll tell you about it later._ When no further explanation seems to be forthcoming from her sister, she says, “You guys are so weird.” Muttering under her breath and innocuously sipping her tea as if she hadn’t spoken when Tessa shoots her a sharp look.

“Ready!” Tessa fixes her hat so that it’s sitting correctly over her ponytail, making her look like she just stepped out of the official Blue Jays catalogue, and takes Scott’s proffered arm, giggling when he straightens his spine as stiff as he can and pretends to walk like some pompous turn-of-the-century gentleman sweeping her away off on some romantic stroll and a night at the opera.

“Your carriage awaits, Madame. And by carriage I mean the subway because I didn’t drive.” He winks, grinning when he gets the laugh he wanted, then practically shouts as he realizes, “Hey! The TTC for T. T on the TTC. TV on the Toronto TC! How have I never noticed the potential wordplay there before?” 

“Because you want to live past thirty,” Tessa deadpans, “Are you quite done?”

There’s a giggle in there somewhere, Scott knows, so he gives her a pass for being snarky. Besides, today is off to too lovely of a start for him to be offended by her dismissal of his clearly genius play on words.

The subway is packed with people wearing blue and white like them, flashes of red maple leaves and birds peeking out from all over the place, and all of the visual stimulation has Hannah craning her head in every direction – trying her hardest to see it all. Five minutes into their journey Scott flips her around in the carrier so that she’s facing forward, hoping to mitigate some of the neck-craning going on, but that only seems to encourage her, and she babbles a happy stream of ba-bas and da-das non-stop. Having a conversation that only she can understand.

“She’s so happy today.” Tessa grabs Hannah’s bouncing foot and wiggles it around, and Scott tries to adjust to the strange feeling of having an eighteen pound mass wriggling around on his chest, her feet rhythmically kicking him in the stomach. Gone are the days when she rested quietly or was content to be bundled up close and held (at least outside of nap time or bed time). He just knows the second she figures out the whole walking thing he’s going to have his work cut out for him.

He can see the headlines now. Scott Moir: Missing for days! Finally found halfway to America chasing his daughter as she toddled away at top speed!

“Of course she’s super happy,” Scott picks up her other foot and together he and Tessa pretend to click Hannah’s heels together, beaming at the way it makes Hannah smile, “She’s going to her first baseball game. Jeff bought her the shirt and Chiddy’s been explaining all the rules to her so that she’s adequately prepared. No calling a home run a touchdown by _my_ daughter.”

“That happened one time!” Tessa protests loudly, blushing when a few people stare at her. “One time,” She repeats, quieter this time, “And I was eleven.”

“I’m just saying, for a girl whose brother played baseball in college that was pretty embarrassing,” Scott teases, jumping out of the way to dodge her responding jab in the ribs.

“Do you think she actually retained any of that information? Or understood it? She’s not even ten months old yet,” She points out, “She could still make the same mistake I did.”

Scott gasps and throws his hand over his Hannah's heart, “Tessa Virtue, you take that back. My daughter will know all the correct sport terminology, thank you very much. Besides, she liked playing with the baseball Chiddy gave her.”

“And by playing you mean –“’

“- Dropping it repeatedly so that Chiddy would have to pick it up, yeah.”

Tessa laughs at that and Scott laughs along with her, the happy sound catching Hannah’s attention. She pauses sucking on her hand long enough to look up at them both with those pretty light brown eyes of hers (he’s never cared for his eye color before, but seeing it on his daughter is totally different), and Scott leans his head down to give her a quick peck on the bridge of her nose.

“If your back gets tired or you start to get a headache, let me know and I can carry her,” Tessa offers over her shoulder as they, and a hundred other people, step off the train at the always-busy Union Station. A nearby man nearly elbowing Hannah in the chaos and almost earning a swift one-way ticket to the afterlife.

Scott quickly finds Tessa’s hand and weaves their fingers together to prevent them from getting separated in the crowd (finding a brunette wearing Blue Jays gear in a sea of people dressed exactly the same would be nearly impossible) and leads her through the chaos – winding his way in and out of people until they’re a good ways down the street and safe from all the hubbub.

"That’s sweet of you to offer, but I’ll be fine,” He smiles appreciatively, keeping Tessa’s hand in his and swinging it back and forth between their bodies as they head in the direction of the CN Tower, “She isn’t too heavy yet.”

“Just think about it. It hasn’t been too long since your accident and I know too much strain still triggers symptoms.” Tessa pulls the tickets out of her purse and hands them to the guy with the scanner, flashing a thankful smile at him that the poor guy wasn’t prepared for – judging by the flustered way he almost drops the tickets when handing them back to her. Not that Scott can blame him, when you’re not prepared a Virtue smile can knock you off your feet.

“I appreciate the concern, Virtch, but let’s focus on finding your boss and putting on a good show, eh? I feel fine.”

Other than the recurring headache, which his doctor assured him is totally normal, he doesn’t have any lingering effects from the concussion, and he’s not about to let a stupid head injury prevent him from holding his daughter – or from having a good time today. 

The Rogers Centre is alive with the optimism of fifty-thousand people hoping and praying that this year will be The Year that their team reclaims its former glory. A sort of unrealistic yet inspiring dream that’s infiltrated the hearts of every Torontonian and brought them to the stadium to watch the opening game of the season with as much enthusiasm as they can muster.

Maybe they all know it’s a pipe dream and that the chances of the Jays coming anywhere close to the World Series are pretty much one in a thousand, but today, at the dawning of a new season, they’ve all put aside the real world for the next nine innings and decided to embrace the impossible.

“We’re up in the Ticketmaster Lounge,” Tessa grabs Scott’s arm when he tries to follow the crowd towards the lower level seats. He’d been assuming (or hoping, maybe) that a man like Mr. Schmidt would want to be right behind home plate where the action is, but Tessa shakes her head as if reading his thoughts, “This way.”

“All the way up there?” He grumbles, casting a longing look back at the seats that are close enough to chat with the players, if he wanted to. Close enough to almost feel like he’s one of the Jays. Not that he’d trade being a Leaf for anything, but maybe in another life…

“Free food,” Tessa shrugs, as if that explains everything, “And also I don’t think his wife would really care to be squeezed into those regular hard-backed seats. She’s nice, but much more of a velvet pillow type person. I guess when you can afford the best, why settle?”

_Because sitting behind home plate is better_ , Scott silently grumbles. 

He begrudges the woman her poor choices up until the very last second before they enter the lounge, and then immediately forgives her when he sees what it’s like inside. Private bathrooms, large dining tables, concierge service, premium food – with items on the menu like fried goat cheese, seared fish fillets, and carrot cake twinkies, and the biggest, plushiest seats Scott’s ever seen with an unencumbered view over the entire diamond.

Why hasn’t he ever considered buying premium season tickets before? All these years he’s wasted sitting up in the nosebleeds. Home plate, who?

“Tessa! Scott!” Mr. Schmidt bounces up to them with an ear-splitting grin, pulling Scott into a vigorous handshake without warning that rattles his bones and makes Scott re-think that whole concussion-trigger-warning thing. That handshake definitely counts as vigorous exercise. “So glad you both could make it! May I introduce my wife, Sylvia.” He gestures towards the stately looking blonde-haired woman next to him wearing a Blue Jays blue pantsuit that makes Scott smile privately to himself, and she smiles. 

“Mr. Schmidt, it’s nice to see you again. It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” Scott holds out his hand to Sylvia, shaking it much more gently than her husband would. “Thank you for letting us tag along with Tess today.”

“Please, it’s Peter here,” Mr. Schmidt waves him off, while his wife smiles politely, “And who is this precious little nugget with you?”

“This is my daughter, Hannah.” Scott puffs out his chest proudly, in doing so showing off Hannah even more prominently. He wasn’t sure if bringing her today was the right choice or not, given how important it was to Tessa, but she’d mentioned that Mr. Schmidt loved babies so he’d brought her along as a secret weapon. And as a good luck charm – how could the Jays lose today with such an adorable baby in the audience?

“Tessa never mentioned that the two of you had a daughter! Congratulations!”

“She is very beautiful. A sweet little cherub,” Sylvia agrees warmly, “And what a lovely smile. She must get that from you,” She nods kindly towards Tessa, who flushes bright pink and begins to stammer.

“Uh… well… um… actually, no. Not exactly… She’s Scott’s daughter, but I’m not her mother.”

“Oh…” Mr. Schmidt looks stunned for a minute, his wife equally flabbergasted, and then a dark cloud seems to pass over his face as he turns to look darkly back at Scott, “Oh.”

“Scott and I weren’t together at the time,” She rushes to add, guessing what assumptions Mr. Schmidt must be making and trying to head them off, for which Scott is very grateful. As if he would ever cheat on _Tessa_ of all people. As if he’d ever cheat, period!

“You weren’t, eh?” Mr. Schmidt arches a skeptical eyebrow, still sizing up Scott, and Scott smiles at him in what he hopes is an innocent, friendly way. Finding Tessa’s hand again and giving it a little squeeze.

“Nope,” He adds helpfully, “Just friends. Hannah’s the incredibly fortunate byproduct of a little too much fun, if you know what I mean.”

Mr. Schmidt chortles and visibly relaxes, obviously relieved to discover that he didn’t just step into a very awkward situation, and slaps Scott on the back like they’re old friends, “I know what you mean _exactly_. I remember what those youthful days were like. Sowing your wild oats.” He winks and it’s a miracle Scott manages to mask the way his face scrunches up at the unpleasant phrase.

“ _Wild oats,”_ Tessa whispers under her breath, barely audible, and Scott snorts.

“That’s amazing,” Sylvia smiles softly at Tessa, touching her elbow, “That you’re willing to raise another woman’s child. I’m very impressed. Not many women would.”

“She’s Scott’s child,” Tessa answers automatically, this time taking her turn to squeeze his hand, her gaze softening when she looks down at Hannah, “And she’s very easy to love.”

“I couldn’t do it without Tess. She’s a life-saver.” Scott slings his arm around Tessa's shoulders and impulsively kisses her temple. He can tell the act takes her by surprise, but he figures he’s excused a little extra physical affection in light of the fact that he’s supposed to be her boyfriend right now. Besides, every word he says is true. He can be a doting fake boyfriend _and_ an adoring best friend at the same time.

“That’s not true. Scott’s an amazing dad. He’s really stepped up this last year.” Tessa wraps her arm around his waist, snuggling closer to his side, and Scott can’t help but smile at how easy this is. They’re an amazing fake couple. They should go pro. Take their show on the road and make millions teaching acting classes to young professionals desperate to fool their bosses to get on their good side.

Or is that too niche a subject?

"It’s sweet to see a young couple so in love,” Sylvia says fondly, the four of them following Mr. Schmidt as he leads them to their seats for the start of the game, her eyes starry and far away as she continues, “I remember those early days. They call it a honeymoon period for a reason. Everything seems to bright and wonderful and exciting and new.”

“Are you saying things aren’t still wonderful and exciting for us?” Mr. Schmidt pretends to frown at his wife, but the twinkle in his eyes gives away the joke, and she merely laughs at his antics, clearly used to them after so many years together. The action highlights the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and the laugh lines around her mouth – obviously the result of decades spent with him - and Scott can’t help but think how nice it seems. To have been with a partner so long that the evidence of your love for them is etched onto your face. Like the indentations on the rings fingers of couples who have been together for sixty years.

It’s kind of romantic.

“Oh, I don’t think this feeling will end with the honeymoon period. Tess and I are in it for the long haul. She’s my person.” Scott smiles, impulsively kissing Tessa on the cheek when she looks up at him – accidentally grazing the corner of her mouth in the process. The near-miss takes his breath away (that could have been awkward if he’d kissed her for real! In front of her boss, no less), and he almost doesn’t hear her when Sylvia asks, “Your person?”

He chuckles, turning away from the strange look in Tessa’s eyes, “You know - ‘if I murdered someone, she's the person I'd call to help me drag the corpse across the living room floor.’ My person.”

At their slightly horrified looks in response to this gruesome explanation, Tessa quickly cuts in, “It’s from _Grey’s Anatomy_. Scott watches too much TV in the off-season. I’m trying to break him of the habit, but he can be such a couch potato when he doesn’t have a game to get to!”

“That is not true!” Sure, he enjoys a good Netflix binge as much as anybody, but he still makes it to the gym every day. And he highly doubts that this summer will be like the last one. Hannah will see to that. Babs would never let any of them get too out of shape, anyway. He’s too determined to win the Stanley Cup within the next five years. 

“Isn’t it?” Tessa teases, elbowing him in the ribs and gesturing wildly towards the view in front of them, “I bet you could beat anyone in this stadium to a _FRIENDS_ trivia contest right now without any preparation.”

“That’s a moo point,” He quotes in response, wiggling his eyebrows at her and grinning when Tessa holds up her hand in warning. She’s watched too many episodes with him not to get the reference, and he knows it drives her crazy when he quotes the show nonstop at her. 

“Don’t.”

“A moo point?” Mr. Schmidt asks innocently, and Scott winks at Tessa before completing the joke for her boss.

“It’s like a cow’s opinion, it doesn’t matter!”

Tessa slaps her hand against her forehead as Scott grins, pleased with himself, and Mr. Schmidt and his wife look back and forth between them – clearly confused, but deciding to go along with it.

“I suppose that makes sense…” Sylvia says slowly, and Tessa groans into her hand before looking up and apologizing.

“Ignore him. That’s what I do.”

“Rude.” Scott slips his hand into her back pocket and pinches her ass, figuring it’s what she deserves after a comment like that, and Tessa barely masks her yelp with a poorly executed cough. Red blossoming high on her cheeks as she tries not to react any further. 

_Interesting._

“Speaking of the off-season,” Mr. Schmidt pipes up during the break in conversation, having seen his chance to bring up the topic Scott knew he’d want to discuss eventually and taking it, “That was a pretty nasty beating you took a few weeks ago. I was very sorry to hear that you’d be out for the rest of the season.” 

“Me too.” Scott takes his seat next to Tessa, leaning over her a bit so that he can continue talking to Mr. Schmidt. Although he can’t move very far without risking crushing Hannah – and Tessa quickly reaches out and pulls her out of the carrier and onto her lap to give him more room.

"No chance of you joining the team in game three against the Bruins tomorrow night, eh?” Mr. Schmidt asks hopefully, and Scott hesitates until Tessa elbows him sharply in the ribs, giving him a look that he’s become very familiar with in the last two weeks. A look that says _Doctor Tessa will kill you if you even think about it_.

“Sadly, no,” He sighs, “It’s still too risky.”

He’s been toying with the idea all week, wondering if it would _really_ be all that bad if he took the ice again just for a game or two to help get past the Bruins in the play-offs, but he knows the second he tried Tessa, Chiddy, Jeff, his doctor, Babs, and half the team would be all over him – tackling him to the ground if necessary to keep him off the ice.

It sucks to be excluded from such important games, even if he understands that it’s necessary if he doesn’t want to be more permanently excluded in the future.

"If he got hit again it could be disastrous,” Tessa explains, “And you know how the Bruins are.”

Mr. Schmidt nods seriously, “I think their team strategy is to draft the biggest, ugliest men out there and intimidate the competition. I was really hoping we’d teach them a lesson this year, though, but I guess that’ll have to wait.”

“Next year,” Scott promises, “We’ll crush them in the play-offs in 2019.”

“I’m sure we will.”

The innings pass by quickly and the Blue Jays play surprisingly well against the Cleveland Indians. Not at first, when they’re down four to zero, but later when they seem to find their confidence and get into a groove – zooming up the scoreboard until they’re three points ahead at the bottom of the sixth.

As the game goes on, Scott finds himself slipping more and more into the boyfriend role. Getting up to get Tessa food and drinks, sharing jokes with her, the two of them knocking heads as they entertain Hannah. It’s easy to let himself put his arm around her shoulders, brush her hair away from her face, wipe away the smudge of nacho cheese from the corner of her mouth and lick it off his thumb. It doesn’t even feel so much like _boyfriend_ stuff as it does their usual behavior with the occasional dirty thought or extra caress thrown in.

(And it’s not like the dirty thoughts are exactly new given, well, _recent events.)_

By the time the Jays are completing a two-run hit in the ninth inning to win the game, Tessa’s wearing his jacket, holding his sleeping daughter, and Scott’s tracing shapeless patterns into her thigh and wondering if it would be weird to ask to spend the night. Platonically, of course, both him and Hannah. Just cuddling.

He just… doesn’t want this day to end. Fake dating Tessa feels more natural than real dating any of his ex-girlfriends had been. 

“The three of you make such a lovely picture,” Sylvia smiles softly, stretching her arms and legs out now that the game’s been called, “Would you like me to take one? I’m not very good with these new camera phones, but I’m not bad as he is.” She gestures to her husband with her thumb and he chuckles.

“It’s true. I’m always having to delete dozens of pictures of the insides of my pockets every night. I don’t know how it happens.”

“Um… sure, thank you,” Tessa jerks her head in wordless command for Scott to retrieve her phone from her purse, and he hands it to Sylvia before leaning in closer to Tess until their heads are pressed together - resting his hand on top of hers where it’s covering Hannah’s hands to help keep them warm.

“Say cheese!” She holds down the button too long and Scott hears the tale-tell sound of the shutter going off a million times. And he shares a laughing-smile with Tessa. There will definitely be more than a few to delete later (although he might steal them all from her first).

“I’m sure it won’t be too long before you’re having children of your own. Both of you together, I mean.” Sylvia hands the phone back and Scott puts it back in Tessa’s purse, missing the way she goes tense at his side and her little gasp.

"I’d like nothing more,” Scott beams, playing along with his boyfriend role, just as Tessa says, “I think that’s something we’ll talk about way, way down the line.” He looks at her, not missing her clipped tone and shuttered eyes, and she tacks on, “When Hannah’s a little older, I mean.”

“Of course.” Sylvia laughs, not sensing anything amiss, and they all stand up to go, Tessa handing Hannah back to Scott so that he can put her back in the carrier for their journey home.

“Well don’t wait too long to put a ring on that finger, Scott!” Mr. Schmidt shakes his hand again and grins, “A girl this great – anybody could come along and snatch her up if you’re not careful. She’s quite a prize.”

“ _She_ is standing right here,” Tessa mumbles, quiet enough that only Scott can hear her. He has no idea what happened in the last five minutes, but clearly she’s upset about something.

“Oh, I plan on it, Sir,” Scott agrees amiably, hoping that by going along with her boss’s suggestion he’ll make Tessa happy, but her frown only seems to deepen.

“Peter, I told you. Call me Peter.”

“Of course. Thanks again for a wonderful day, Peter. We really appreciate it.”

“Anytime, my boy, anytime! And don’t be afraid to stop by the office whenever you feel like it. I’ll open a bottle of champagne for you if the Leafs make it to the next round of the play-offs.”

“That sounds like an excellent idea.”

Another round of handshakes and the Schmidts leave them alone, heading off into the crowd to make their own way home.

Judging that taking her hand right now would _not_ be a good idea, Scott simply follows Tessa as she marches through the mass of people towards the exit. Almost losing her as they emerge out onto the wide walkway that crosses the train tracks.

The CN Tower is lit up for the evening, the giant freestanding letters spelling out CANADA flashing different colors at its base as people climb all over them and pose for photos, and the second there’s enough room for him to step up beside her he asks, “Are you going to tell me why you’re upset or do I have to guess?”

“Do you really have to ask?”

“Is it because he called you a prize? I know you hate that, T, but I really think he was trying to pay you a compliment.” In that old-fashioned, slightly offensive way old men do. It’s not the politest thing to say in the world, but on a scale of one to ten Scott hardly thinks it garners this reaction. Especially since the whole point of this outing was because she wanted her boss to notice her.

“It’s not about what he said, it’s the way he said it,” Tessa sighs, folding her arms over her chest to ward off the chill, even though she’s still wearing Scott’s hoodie, “Like I was just another object in the room.”

“I don’t think he-“

She glares at him and Scott’s teeth clack as he slams his mouth shut. He’s a man. He doesn’t get it. Point taken.

They’ve stopped walking now, coming to a standstill at the top of the cement steps, and Tessa stares resolutely over his shoulder. Warring with herself over whatever it is she’s hiding, and there’s a growing pit in Scott’s gut that tells him whatever it is isn’t good.

“Is that the only reason you’re mad, or is there something else?” He can’t remember doing anything wrong tonight, but maybe she’d hated the snacks he brought her? Or maybe it was the sparkling water instead of flat? He had spilled gourmet cracker jacks on her lap at one point (yeah, that was an actual thing on the menu – of course he had to try it), so maybe that’s what she’s upset about. It would make sense that she’d wait to complain until they weren’t in front of her boss.

“Did you have to be so convincing?” She finally mumbles, taking him completely by surprise.

“What do you mean?”

Tessa sucks in a sharp breath and when she looks at him it’s like looking at hardened steel. “I mean... He thinks we’re getting married now!”

"So?” Scott asks slowly, looking at her funny and cocking his head, “Isn’t that what people expect from serious relationships?”

_What does this have to do with spilled cracker jacks?_

“Scott, we aren’t _in_ a relationship!” She flings her arms out to the side, almost whacking a poor old man in the head as he inches past her, “What’s he going to say when we don’t get engaged soon?”

“Why does he need to know whether or not we get engaged?”

“He’s going to ask me about it now every time I see him and the whole office will probably hear him and this rumor will never die! We’re going to be paired together forever!”

Okay, _ouch_. This? Coming after an afternoon spent pretending to be the perfect boyfriend at _her_ request? She makes it sound like their names being paired together is a death sentence. No, a fate worse than death. And his temper flares. “I didn’t realize being paired with me was such a shitty option.”

“ _You’re_ not shitty,” Tessa rubs her collarbone, a self-soothing motion she only does when she’s at her most uncomfortable, and Scott resists the urge to tug her hand away. Hating that she feels the need to comfort herself when she’s with him of all people. “Being stuck paired with you in my boss’s head is shitty!” She continues, “I want him to see me for myself and what I bring to the table at the firm – not as some celebrity hockey star’s girlfriend or a _prize_ to be paraded around – beautiful, but silent!”

“He doesn’t think of you like that at all,” Scott snorts, immediately regretting it when Tessa glares furiously at him, “What did you expect would happen when you decided to ask me to come with you today, anyway? _You_ asked _me_ , remember?”

“I know I asked you!” She shuts her eyes and takes a few deep breaths before continuing, “I just expected us to have a nice, if slightly awkward, time at the ballpark to make my boss happy and then go home and maybe watch a movie. In a month or two Mr. Schmidt would ask me how you’re handling the off-season and I’d let him know that we broke up, but remain committed to being friends. He’d be disappointed and then move on and never bring it up again and I’d be back to being Tessa Virtue, his low-level employee, but at least he’d know my name for future reference. I thought I could handle it. I didn't expect his wife to be so lovely, or to have so much fun, or to feel... to want...”

“So you’re just using me to get ahead at work?" He interrupts, feeling hurt and angry and lashing out, "That’s nice, Virtch. Would you even tell me about the break-up or was I just supposed to play along with that, too?”

Tessa looks aghast at the accusation and her hand flies out to grab his wrist, fingers wrapping around him like a vise when he tries to pull away, “I’m not using you! Don’t twist my words! I would never do that.” Okay, he knows that was a low-blow. “I just think…” She pauses and suddenly she looks very vulnerable in the fading twilight, “I just think we took things too far. Both of us. And it’s not like it’s real, anyway, so why would it matter if we fake-broke up?”

“I know it’s not real!” He snaps, turning away from her.

His emotions are a turbulent mess, churning like a tornado inside his stomach. Which doesn’t make any sense because it’s not like he doesn’t understand what she’s saying. He gets and respects that she wants to be seen as her own person, he knew what today was about from the beginning, and he agreed to this whole charade. But it had been nice, goddammit! At least he’d thought so! It was fun pretending to be her boyfriend. But apparently she’s already written their break-up speeches. _Fake break-up speeches_ , he mentally amends. Because it’s not real and he shouldn’t be freaking out like it is.

“Scott?” An unexpected voice interrupts them. A voice Scott hasn’t heard in almost three years, and he clamps his eyes shut tight. As if by closing them he can will away the woman he knows is currently standing behind him, waiting to be acknowledged.

This day just went from amazing to bad to worse faster than Usain Bolt can win an Olympic race.

“Cassandra,” Tessa says breathlessly by his side, speaking only when it’s evident that Scott cannot and fiddling furiously with the rings on her middle finger - probably turning the skin underneath raw with how fast she’s spinning them, “What an unexpected surprise!”

“Tessa,” Cassandra replies, somewhat coolly, but not as unfriendly or outright hostile as her attitude towards her had been back when she and Scott were dating. She’d always held a grudge against Tessa back then and Scott could never quite understand why. “It’s nice to see you again. How are you?”

“I’m doing well, thank you, and yourself?” Tessa asks, polite as ever, all outward traces of their fight gone, “I can see congratulations are in order.”

“Yes, thank you. I don’t believe you’ve met my husband.”

At that Scott finally forces himself to turn around and come face to face with the ex who ripped his heart out of his chest three years ago and stomped all over it in her stilettos by running off with his teammate. The woman who, inadvertently, in some strange way, lead him down the path that brought him Hannah.

What a weird thought.

Cassandra hasn’t changed much. Same dark hair, same French-manicured nails and too-pink lip gloss, same fake tan. But there’s a gigantic rock on her left ring finger now that reflects the light each time she moves her hand – casting sparkles across the nearest available surface. In this case, her husband’s royal blue jersey. There are lines around the corners of her eyes that didn’t used to be there, as well as a rather significant baby bump protruding from her stomach.

Her lips are pursed tightly together like she’s sucking on a lemon, her eyes stuck on Scott, and for a second he thinks she’s just that upset to see him and feeling guilt over her actions before he realizes she’s not looking at _him_ , she’s looking at Hannah. Her gaze drags slowly from his sleeping daughter, resting peacefully against his chest despite all the commotion – too tired from the over-exciting day to notice - in her carrier, to Tessa, and Scott can see the puzzle pieces clicking into place behind her eyes. Putting two and two together, even if she doesn’t know it’s the wrong equation.

“This is Cody Franson,” She recovers from her shock and places her hand over the chest of the gigantic man who towers over all three of them with a bright smile, “He’s a defenseman for the Detroit Red Wings and the love of my life. We’re just in town for the weekend.”

It’s strange, the way Cassandra introduces him as if they didn’t all used to hang out sometimes, yet casually tacking on a declaration of love at the end that’s clearly calculated to inflict damage. Like she’s got something to prove to him. _No_ , to them, judging by the way she keeps looking at Tessa.

It’s as if they’re all supposed to forget any shared history and pretend they’re merely acquaintances catching up.

Now Scott feels like _he’s_ the one whose sucked on a lemon. 

“Yes,” Tessa nods a stiff but polite hello at the other hockey player and shakes Cody’s outstretched hand, “I remember you from when you played for the Leafs.”

Such an innocuous way of saying, _I remember when you betrayed Scott and stole his girlfriend and defected to the Leafs’ arch-nemesis, leaving me to pick up the pieces_ , and Scott gently rubs Tessa’s lower back as both a sign of gratitude for her levelheadedness and support, as well as an attempt to selfishly glean some comfort from her. Although he doesn’t miss the way she stiffens under his touch. Obviously still smarting from their argument.

“I remember you, too,” Cody smiles, unconsciously scratching his reddish-brown beard before taking his wife’s hand and lacing their fingers together, “Always hanging around this guy,” He gestures towards Scott with a laugh, “Moir and his girl Virtue. The whole team had bets placed about when you’d get together. Nice to see it finally happened. Congrats on the new baby, by the way.” He gestures towards Hannah with a flick of his head, and Scott nearly swallows his tongue.

The whole team was betting on them? Are they _still_ betting on him and Tess? Scott pictures Marner and Nylander and their smug smiles and barely concealed jokes and scowls. Yeah, they’re definitely still placing bets. He’ll have to talk to them about it, sooner rather than later, and explain just how wrong they are and tell them to butt out of his private life.

“Oh she’s not –“ Tessa begins, cut off prematurely by her own awkward burst of giggles that could almost sound like sobs.

“Tessa’s not her mom,“ Scott says at the same time, rolling his eyes at being asked the same question for the second time that day. At this rate he’s going to have to make them nametags that explain the situation. 

“- I’m not her mom,” She finishes, speaking on top of him. Looking like she’d rather be anywhere but here and eyeing the staircase for a viable escape route. She never did like spending more than five minutes with Cass, no matter how often Scott tried to make them become friends. 

“Tessa’s her godmother,” Scott tiredly explains, and he can see the blatant surprise written all over the faces of both Cass and Cody. Their eyes going wide as they share what they probably think is a subtle look of disbelief.

“Oh,” Cody stammers, looking back and forth between them with a growing frown, his forehead wrinkles so deep you could plant potatoes in them, “I’m sorry. I just assumed after all these years –“

“We thought you two must have finally gotten together,” Cassandra finishes for her husband, “You can hardly blame us,” She shrugs and shakes her head, “The way you two were with each other. Probably still are, actually. It was obvious to anyone who saw you. Right babe?” She smirks conspiratorially at Cody, who grins back at her and nods.

“Oh yeah. Totally obvious.” 

Tessa swallows loudly, gnawing on her bottom lip and twisting her rings again, “What was obvious?” She’s gone pale – or is that just the lighting? - and she’s avoiding Scott’s gaze.

_Stop that!_ He wants to scream at her, hating the emotional wall she’s put up between them tonight and physically aching to tear it down.

Cassandra smiles, slow and patient, as if she’s talking to two very slow-learning children, “That you’re in love with each other, of course.”

“This again,” Scott rolls his eyes, irritation surging inside his chest and making him speak more vehemently than he really intends to. He just wants Cass and Cody to leave so that he and Tessa can resolve their argument and go _home_. He wanted cuddles, dammit! “How many times did I have to tell you back then that we’re just friends?”

“Just friends,” Cassandra recites in perfect timing with him, making little air-quotes with her fingers, “I remember the excuses. Don’t you think we’re all too old for that now?”

“They weren’t excuses. It’s the truth. Virtch and I have always only been friends. _Best_ friends, but only that. End of story.”

Cassandra snorts, but doesn’t push the issue further. Scott’s almost tempted to continue though, if only to drill it into her head somehow that all her suspicions about him cheating were totally unfounded and completely ironic, given what happened between them in the end. But then she rests her hand on her stomach, her ring flashing again, and leans into her husband’s side, and it’s as if all of his anger and resentment floods out of him in one fell swoop.

What’s the point? It’s been three years, and although she caused him a lot of pain, he’s moved on. She was his past – a painful piece of it, but a piece that’s over now – and he’d rather focus on the present. A present in which this is just a blip in his day, annoying, sure, but something to forget about as soon as he gets home.

He has more important matters to attend to right now, anyway.

“It was nice to see you both again, but Tess and I should really be going.” He reaches for Tessa’s hand, accidentally grabbing her wrist when she shifts slightly, and tugs her in the direction of Union Station. “Congrats again on the baby.”

“Thanks,” Cassandra waves awkwardly, “You too.”

Tessa pulls her hand free the second they’re down the stairs, nearly prompting Scott to pick up their conversation again then and there when he’s prevented by someone shouting his name.

"Hey, Scott, wait up!” Cody jogs to catch up to them and shoves his hand out towards Scott, looking guilty and uncomfortable, but determined, “For what it’s worth, man, I’m sorry. For what happened. Back then.”

“Thanks, Cody,” Scott accepts the handshake, feeling the last of his resentment disappear with it, “Have a nice life. I wish you all the best, really.”

“You too.”

Tessa is disturbingly quiet the whole way home. Only saying simple, necessary things like “excuse me,” and “thank you.” She doesn’t look at him, she refuses to do more than hum when he tries to talk to her or crack a joke, and Scott’s about ready to walk headfirst into traffic just to get her attention by the time they’ve reached her front door.

“Goodni-“ She reaches for the handle, eager to get inside, but Scott stops her. Unwilling to let the night end like this. They don’t do this. They don’t fight. They don’t _yell_. And he’s not about to leave things unresolved for weeks on end again.

Somehow he’s confident offering to go down on her isn’t going to solve this one.

“So…” He starts, taking off his baseball cap and running his hand through his hair before replacing it, “That game ended with some fireworks, eh?” He chuckles and bumps her shoulder with his, hoping to garner a positive reaction, but Tessa still looks lost in her own world. “I’m sorry for overreacting and not being more understanding about why you were upset, Tess. I hate when we fight. Can you forgive me?”

She releases her bottom lip, swollen and red from all her chewing, and turns to face him straight on – standing on the bottom step so that she’s closer to his height and doesn’t have to look up so much to talk. “I’m sorry, too. Things got weird today. Like I said, we both got carried away. I shouldn’t have asked you to pretend to be something you’re not – it was weird for both of us.”

“I’m still glad you asked me, Virtch,” Scott insists, “I had fun up until the end.”

Tessa winces and her hand grazes his elbow in a sympathetic gesture, and he finds himself inexplicably wishing for a hug. “I’m sorry you had to see Cassandra again. That must have been hard for you.”

“It was at first, but then… I dunno. I think it was a good thing. I can close the door on all that now and finally stop letting it dictate my actions.”

She searches his face, for what he doesn’t know, and asks, “Really?”

“Yeah,” He nods, feeling more and more like he really is free from the hurt he’d been carrying around for so long, even without consciously realizing it, “Forgive and forget, right?”

“That’s very mature of you,” She says, and Scott huffs out a laugh.

“Well, I learned from the best. I knew you’d rub off on me at some point.” He can’t help the way his face scrunches up at the accidental innuendo, making it more obvious – his brain is just wired that way – and he instantly regrets it when instead of giggling, Tessa looks uncomfortably down at her feet. “Are you still going to come to dinner next Thursday? Jeff’s ordering Thai I think. Although you know how fickle his food moods are – plans could easily change before then.”

“No, I…” She fiddles with the strap of her purse and takes a deep breath, “I think it might be good for us to take a break from each other.”

When Scott was five years old he’d asked his dad what it felt like for all the people on earth when Superman flew backwards around the world and reversed time. His dad had sat back in his chair for a moment, thought it over in that slow, careful way Joe Moir always does, and then said he thought it must be like riding a tilt-a-whirl, only a million times worse because you didn’t see it coming.

That’s what this moment feels like right now.

“A break? You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” Tessa nods, her voice growing more confident with every word, “Things got really heated today and we never fight like that. Maybe we just need a little time to cool down, take a step back, and breathe a little. We spend so much time together it’s only natural for things to become… overwhelming sometimes. Especially given the lines we’ve crossed recently. We could both use a chance to refocus and readjust and get back to basics.”

“I’m cool!” Scott practically shouts, panic rising urgently in his throat, threatening to choke him if he doesn’t fix this, “Tess, I’m cool. I promise. It’s all water under the bridge. I’m not confused or overwhelmed – I know we’re just friends and that’s it and I’m sorry if I got carried away with the whole fake boyfriend thing in front of your boss. I was just having fun and I thought you were, too.”

“I don’t want fake, Scott.” She slumps backwards against the door, looking more tired than he’s ever seen her, “I never should have suggested it.”

“What do you want, Tess? What would make you happy?”

Is now the moment to offer to lasso the moon for her? He kind of feels like it is. Anything to see her smile. Scott opens his mouth and -

“Matt invited me to a concert next Thursday, and I said yes,” She blurts out, knocking the wind clean out of his lungs.

He gapes at her, mouth opening and closing like a fish, before finally managing to ask, “You’re going on a date with Matt?”

"It’s not a date. We’re just friends,” Tessa clarifies, and he almost relaxes until – “Just like you and I are just friends.”

What the _fuck_ does that mean?

The two of them have shared some experiences lately that aren’t strictly the most _friendly_ of activities. Is she trying to say that she and Matt are doing the same things? Is she sleeping with Matt!?

The thought makes him want to throw up.

“Can’t you go out on another night?”

Or not? At all? Preferably never?

“I already said yes to Thursday,” She frowns apologetically, “It would be rude to try and change now. Besides, that's when the concert is. But this will be good, you’ll see. We’ll spend some time apart and then I’ll see you in two weeks to help Jeff move in with Justin. I’m sure we’ll both be so busy the time will fly.”

Tessa awkwardly tugs at the hem of the hoodie, then looks down in shock – as if she forgot she was wearing it. Tugging it over her head (god help him, his eyes are drawn straight to the strip of skin that’s revealed when her shirt rides up), she hands it back to him with another apology.

Scott looks down at the offending garment, uncomprehending just how their night came to this. “If that’s what you want, Virtch.” He speaks slowly, the words like lead on his tongue. Every part of him screaming that this is _wrong_ , but not knowing how to make it right.

“That’s what I want,” She sniffs, trying to pass off wiping away the tear at the corner of her eye as brushing her hair away from her face, “You’ll see I’m right. When we see each other again, we’ll be just like new. Back to our old selves.”

"Okay." Scott takes her gently by the elbow and places a lingering kiss on her cheek, breathing in deeply before stepping backwards and trying to put on a brave face. “I’ll see you in a couple of weeks, then.”

She swallows audibly, biting the inside of her cheek, and barely manages to murmur, “Goodbye, Scott,” before spinning around and disappearing through her front door. Shutting it closed behind her with a resounding click that echoes through his brain and through his heart like a gunshot. 

How the fuck did they get here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry! This wasn't supposed to happen originally, but then they started fighting and I just... they made me do it!


	13. you wouldn't get this from any other guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott does not handle separation very well and he ends up in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or maybe it's the right place...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last bit of this chapter is explicit. You have been warned.

** you wouldn't get this from any other guy **

****

This is exactly why he never pursued anything with Tessa.

All these years. The teasing and the joking and the what ifs and the maybes and the constant repetition of _platonic, platonic, platonic_ until the word ceased to have all meaning. All these years spent prioritizing their friendship above all else, sacrificing what could be for the security of what is. Then one single fake date happens and look where the fuck it got him. Fucking alone, that’s where. He can’t even imagine the complete clusterfuck it would be if he’d asked her out for real. Suddenly the two-week break she’d requested stretches into two months and then two years and then forever in his mind at the thought.

He’s miserable without her and it’s only been two days. Actually, strictly speaking it’s only been thirty-seven hours and forty-two minutes, but who’s counting. The point still stands that if this is a glimpse at what his future could be if he’s not careful, he won’t make it. He’ll have to move to some tiny eastern European village and become a monk as punishment for ruining the best thing in his life.

Thirty-seven hours is plenty of time to analyze every second of their Saturday over and over and over and over again. Parsing every sentence and going over every minute detail. He can see now how they got carried away with the pretending (him more than her) and let things get out of hand and even though he really, really, really fucking (really, really) hates it, she was right. He needed some time to remember how to be platonic with her. _Real_ platonic, not platonic plus sexual favors.

(That hasn’t lead them anywhere good, despite how good it felt at the time.)

But thirty-seven hours and forty-six minutes is enough. He’s learned his lesson. Learned it at about four forty-eight yesterday morning, in fact, and now he’d just really like to talk to his best friend again. To prove that he can be the same Scott he was before Pyeongchang.

His thumb hovers her name in his contact list, flicking back and forth between the compose and home buttons, wondering if taking a break from seeing each other includes texting. Technically, it’s _reading_ , not talking, if it’s in a text message, and they don’t have to see each other to text… maybe just a quick “hey, how are you,” and he’ll go back to leaving her alone once he makes sure she’s still alive.

“Da-da-da-da-da,” Hannah jabbers, stealing his attention away from his dilemma, and Scott reaches out to help keep her balanced where she’s standing in front of him holding onto the knees of his pants – wobbling and trying to stay upright while playing with the texture of his jeans. Watching the other people in the waiting room with bright, curious eyes.

“There you go, sweetheart,” He brushes her blonde hair away from her forehead and glances at the clock on the wall (thirty-seven hours and fifty-eight minutes), “The doc should be ready for us any minute.”

Thank god Hannah has a check-up this morning, otherwise he’s certain they’d be at home doing what they did all day yesterday – lying in his giant bed watching cheesy rom-coms and eating junk food together. Well, he’d be doing that, she’d be sharing whatever he deemed was safe for her to eat (she loves licking little dabs of Neapolitan ice cream off his spoon) while she played with her toys.

(He wasn’t wallowing! He was just… relaxing.)

His phone pings and at first Scott thinks it might be from Tess, perhaps wallowing in the same misery he is and coming to the same realization that they should never be apart this long, but when he pulls it out – fumbling and nearly dropping it in his haste - it’s a text from Matt reminding him about the mandatory team meeting tomorrow before they go into game four against the Bruins.

Scott elects to ignore it.

Tessa’s name is right there again though, just a few clicks away, and he taps on the compose icon just as the nurse opens the door to the back hallway and takes a look at her clipboard before calling out with a smile, “Hannah Moir?”

“That’s us!” Scott slips his phone back into his pocket and scoops up his daughter, double-checking his surroundings before following after the friendly nurse. It’s a habit to check his space now – he’d left too many things behind in those first few weeks with her and learned his lesson.

She leads them to exam room three, the space a veritable explosion of primary colors meant to make kids happy and feel more comfortable, and gestures for Scott to take a seat. “I’m Trisha. I need to ask you a few basic questions and then the doctor will be in.”

“Okay,” Scott smiles and takes a seat, propping Hannah up on his knee, “Shoot.”

Trisha looks at him for a long moment, her eyes squinting like she’s trying to figure something out, before she finally says, “First I need you to confirm Hannah’s date of birth.”

“June twenty-fourth, two-thousand seventeen,” Scott answers promptly. Not that he could ever forget it, but the date is currently fresh in his mind because he’s been discussing birthday plans with his mom recently. Apparently first birthdays are big occasions and must be taken seriously and that means planning months in advance.

“Perfect. Now I’ll weigh her and take her measurements.” Scott hands over Hannah and watches closely as Trisha does everything she needs to do, writing down each number meticulously on her clipboard. “You’re Scott Moir, aren’t you?” She asks as she hands his daughter back to him, taking him by surprise and making him feel cornered.

“That’s what it says on Hannah’s paperwork,” He jokes, stepping closer to the door in case he needs to make a quick exit, but feeling a little satisfied with himself when Trisha laughs. It doesn’t sound like Tessa’s at all, which, in all its iterations, is the best laugh in the world, but it’s still pretty.

“No,” She smiles, “I mean _the_ Scott Moir. Centerman for the Maple Leafs. Olympic hero.”

Scott rubs the back of his neck and tries not to blush, hoping his ears aren’t betraying him by turning bright red like he thinks they are. It’s kind of mortifying to hear himself referred to that way in a doctor’s office and not by a bunch of half-drunk fans at a bar. The latter is excusable, the former is just embarrassing. “My friends just call me Scott.”

“Oh wow, you are him.” Her whole demeanor changes and she tucks the strand of curly red hair that had escaped from her braid behind her ear, licking her lips and batting her eyelashes while glancing quickly at the door to make sure the doctor isn’t about to burst in on them. “Listen… I don’t normally do this, and I know it’s _so_ unprofessional, but -“

“Yes, I’ll take a selfie with you.” He sets Hannah down on the play-mat in the corner, making sure there’s nothing nearby she can put in her mouth, and straightens his shirt so that it’s not quite so wrinkled. “Just leave my daughter out of it, please. I’ve successfully kept her out of the public eye until now and I really don’t want that to change.”

“No!” Her hand shoots out and lands on his forearm, then quickly withdraws when she realizes what she’s done – blushing and chuckling awkwardly, “No, I mean, a selfie would be great, but I was actually wondering if you might want to get drinks sometime. With me. Drinks on a date with me.”

“Oh.” He probably should be flattered, and two months ago he would have been, but dating has been the last thing on his mind lately. It feels wrong somehow to consider dating someone new so soon after his fake date with Tessa, but then… he _is_ supposed to be using this time to remember how to be platonic again. Maybe this is what Tessa would want.

“Or we could do something else!” Trisha hurries to suggest when he doesn’t say more after his one syllable response. “Do you like Rick Astley? I have tickets to his concert at the Opera House on Thursday night. It’s a pretty cool venue. Inside that old cinema on Queen street.”

“Rick Astley?” Scott scrunches up his face and tries not to show how unexcited that prospect makes him. “That eighties singer?”

It’s not that he doesn’t like eighties music (hello, Prince was a god!), but it wouldn’t be his first choice for a date. But that could be good, too. A new date, a new girl, a new activity. It’s not a bad way to push a reset button on himself and expand his horizons. Any distraction is a welcome one right now.

"Yeah,” She laughs at his expression, not buying his cover-up for a second, “I know he’s mostly famous these days for the whole rick-rolling thing, but I actually like his stuff. He’s great to see perform live. I was going to go alone, but since I know you’re on the injured list and can’t play in the play-offs I thought you might have some free time to spare.”

“Um…” Scott hesitates, thinking it over. He did promise himself a few months ago that he’d try dating seriously again and find a mom for Hannah, and Trisha is very pretty and friendly and clearly likes kids if she’s working in a pediatrician’s office. All good things. And what better way to recalibrate, as Tess had said, than to get back into the groove of what he was doing last year. If nothing else it might be nice to get out of the house for a few hours so that he isn’t constantly tempted to text Tessa. “Sure. Why not. I’d love to go out with you.”

“Really?” Her grin is bright enough to power a building. “Oh my god. Okay. Here, let me give you my number. Should we meet there?”

“Sure.” Scott takes the slip of paper from her and tucks it into his pocket. “There’s a great Indian restaurant across the street. Do you want to grab dinner first?”

“Yeah, that sounds delicious. I’ll meet you there at six.”

“It’s a date.”

****

“So I’m hacking and coughing and basically dying an early death on a Sunday morning, and my roommate looks straight at me, takes a long drag on her cigarette, and says, ‘You should stop secondhand-smoking.’”

“Are you serious?” Scott pushes the restaurant door open and steps aside to let Trisha exit onto the sidewalk beside him. The door swinging shut with the tinkling ring of a bell as they go.

“Dead serious,” Trisha deadpans, and Scott laughs, “I don’t think she was really Russian, either. Sometimes I’d hear her talking on the phone in her room and her accent was definitely southern. I can’t believe you still willingly live with roommates. The second I had enough money to live alone, I found an apartment and moved out. I think she’s in prison now for petty theft.”

“Jesus. I don’t blame you for wanting to leave,” Scott pulls a face and Trisha giggles and her hand brushes his in an open invitation, although he decides not to take it. The moment needs to feel right and it doesn’t yet. “My roommates are great though. They’re two of my best friends and we get along really well. Although Jeff, the one who coaches skating, will be moving in with his boyfriend soon.”

Trisha pulls the cap off her breakfast flavored chapstick, the scent of Cocoa Puffs hitting his nose and reminding him of cold mornings growing up in Ilderton fighting his brothers for space in front of the heating vent on the wall while they ate their breakfast. “Will you look for somebody to take his place?”

“I don’t think so,” Scott shakes his head and shrugs one shoulder. It’s going to be a big adjustment, not having Jeff around, and he hates the idea of his apartment becoming a little more empty – too used to having it busy and full all the time – but replacing Jeff would feel wrong. Besides, at thirty years old Scott doesn’t have many single friends left to offer the spot to, anyway.

 _I could offer the room to Tess_ , he thinks, quickly dismissing the thought almost before it’s complete. He would love to live with her, but one, convincing her to leave her sister would be like pulling teeth, and two, moving in together is the exact opposite of taking a break. It’s a miracle she hasn’t asked to clear out her drawer in his closet yet.

(It’s full of his old t-shirts and boxers to use as pajamas, but still, they both think of it as hers.)

“I suppose eventually you’ll want that extra space,” Trisha muses, her hand brushing his again with more determination, “When you’re ready to settle down.”

Scott smiles and forces himself to laugh for lack of a better response. The mental image of some strange woman moving into his apartment and borrowing his stuff too weird to contemplate with any sort of seriousness. 

They find a place in line and Trisha digs out her tickets. Paper copies, not digital, which he can’t help but note is something Tessa would do. She smiles and hands him his, and Scott finds it easy to smile back at her.

Overall, it’s been better than expected, this date with Trisha. She’s smart, funny, fun to be with, loves her job, and loves hockey. And he’s feeling pretty good about his decision to date her, despite a few awkward moments (really, what first date isn’t awkward?). There’s a distinct possibility when the night is over he’ll ask her out again, barring natural disaster or divine intervention.

That’s when a great ass in a well-fitted pair of jeans catches his eye.

He shouldn’t be checking out another woman while on a date. He _knows_ this. Would criticize any man who did and call him disrespectful and undeserving. Only the lowest of the low do that and Trisha deserves better. But the thing is… there’s something _familiar_ about that ass that makes it impossible to look away, so Scott settles for dragging his eyes up the rest of the woman’s back instead – hoping that excuses his ogling.

Tailored black leather jacket, wavy dark brown hair, and –

_Holy shit!_

She turns to her side to laugh at whatever the man she’s with just said and it’s _Tessa_. His Tessa!

He really can’t look away now. His eyes glued to his best friend like he’s lost in a desert and she’s an oasis almost within reach.

Apparently her date with Matt, the man currently making her laugh – Scott’s brain finally registers - is the Rick Astley concert. The same concert Scott is currently about to attend with his own date. It would be funny if it wasn’t such an awful coincidence. How is he supposed to think about Trisha when he knows Tessa is in the same crowd and he hasn’t spoken to her in almost a week and every piece of him is shouting to go talk to her?

His mouth goes dry as he watches Tessa touch Matt’s bicep, her hand lingering there like it’s something she’s done before, the two of them laughing together again, and he can feel the tendons in his jaw straining with the effort to keep his mouth shut. It should be him making her laugh like that. Where does Matt get off coming in and stealing away his best friend?

He has to get out of here. There’s no way he and Trisha can have their date here now – they’ll have to go somewhere else, otherwise Scott is liable to do something really stupid like turn into a Neanderthal and throw Tessa over his shoulder and drag her back to his apartment, which would really be mortifying for everyone involved and probably earn him a (deserved) black eye.

(When did he become so possessive? _Get a grip, Moir!_ )

Easing the muscles in his jaw, Scott opens his mouth to suggest they go somewhere else, struggling to rip his eyes away from Tessa to look at Tracy- _TRISHA_ by his side. Which of course is the moment Trisha notices his staring and asks, “Do you know her?” while jerking her head towards Tessa, and somehow, despite the people standing between them in line, Tessa seems to hear her because she chooses to turn around at that exact moment and lock eyes on Scott.

Time comes to a standstill as her face runs the whole gamut of emotions. From surprised to happy to confused to upset (he recognizes them all), and then, before Scott has a chance to figure out just what in the hell he’s going to say, Tessa gets Matt’s attention and the two of them walk towards Scott and Trisha with varying degrees of smiles on their faces.

“Hey, Scott,” Matt greets him easily, oblivious to the ten different ways Scott’s thought of to dispose of his body in the last thirty seconds, “I didn’t know you were coming tonight. We missed you at the team meeting on Tuesday. Babs said you were sick – I hope you’re feeling better.”

“You were sick?” Tessa asks, concern immediately erasing the traces of anger he’d recognized on her face, “Are you alright? Is Hannah alright?”

“I’m fine, Virtch. Hannah’s fine,” Scott quickly reassures her, his hands itching to touch her and clenching at his side with the sheer physical restraint it takes not to. “It was just, um, food poisoning.”

It wasn’t food poisoning, he just didn’t want to see Matt and sit there in the locker room plagued by unending questions about whether or not his teammate is currently sleeping with his best friend - like riding the Jeopardy carousel from hell. He’ll admit that to himself, even if he’d swear it was a lie to anyone who asked.

“I’m sorry you were sick.” Trisha pats his arm and Scott nearly jerks in surprise. He’d totally forgotten she was there. “You’ve had a rough go of it lately.”

“Who are you?” Tessa asks with a deepening frown, glancing back and forth between her and Scott. He can practically hear her brain whirring inside that beautiful head of hers trying to figure out what’s going on. Whatever conclusions she’s coming to clearly not setting her at ease, if her sour expression is anything to go by.

“Tess, this is my date, Trisha,” Scott explains, hoping that she’ll be satisfied by his explanation and realize he’s been busy this week trying to do what she asked, “Trisha, this is my friend, Tessa.”

She does not look satisfied.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Trisha holds out her hand with a bright, open smile and Tessa can’t help but take it with a friendly smile of her own. Ever eager to please, even when so obviously uncomfortable. 

“You, too. How long have you known Scott?”

“Not long in person, but I’ve been a fan of his for a while.”

“Oh, you’re one of those.” Tessa’s comment, served with a saccharine smile, is scathing, and Scott’s eyebrows shoot towards his hairline in surprise before dropping back down again in disapproval. She’s never said anything like that about one of his dates before – even if they were obviously puck bunnies – at least, not in a way that sounded _mean_.

Scott takes Trisha’s hand. “Trisha is a nurse at Hannah’s doctor’s office. We met on Monday during Hannah’s check-up and hit it off.” It’s weird, but this information, which _should_ make Tessa happy because hey – he’s doing what she asked – seems to make her anything but. Her face falls, her smile faltering, and she looks at him like a wounded animal, but the look is gone before he has a chance to ask her about it.

“Hey, since we’re all here, we should turn this into a double-date thing and all hang out,” Matt suggests, throwing his arm over Tessa’s shoulders, somehow oblivious to the tension between his three companions. The cloud of which is so thick that it’s threatening to suffocate Scott where he stands. 

Spending _more_ time watching Matt and Tessa together sounds like his own personal hell, and Scott intends to say as much when Trisha opens her mouth and says, “Oh! That sounds like fun!”

_Damn it._

“Sure,” Tessa nods, slipping her arm around Matt’s back and squeezing his side, “We’ll have a great time together.”

“Absolutely,” Scott agrees through gritted teeth.

It’s hell.

Matt and Trisha do their best – keeping the conversation flowing, sharing personal stories, discussing work, analyzing the Bruin’s defensive line-up, and ranking eighties bands from worst to best (Tessa goes hard for Hall & Oates, as expected, and passionately defends them with a zeal that rivals her high school debate competitions until Trisha’s practically cowering where she stands), but it’s no good. Scott can’t relax, and he knows Tessa can’t either.

She’s angrier than she was last weekend. He can see it every time her green eyes flicker towards his – fire licking at the surface and threatening to burn him the second it has the chance. He just doesn’t understand _why_. It’s not his fault they’re at the same concert! And _she’s_ the one who wanted a break from _him!_ They wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren’t for her ultimatum.

“Oh! I love this song,” Trisha beams as Rick starts singing _She Wants to Dance with Me_ and practically bounces towards the stage, dancing carelessly with the rest of the crowd, and Matt follows along. The two of them jumping around like nobody’s watching and belting out the lyrics like they’re living for this moment.

Scott smiles at the display, then grimaces when it hits him that this is the first moment he’s had alone with Tess, and she does not look pleased.

Hasn’t she missed him _at all_? Or has their time apart been nothing but sunshine and roses on her end?

“What are you doing here?” She hisses the second their companions are out of earshot, glaring at him with both hands on her hips. Intending to look intimidating, but kind of looking adorable at the same time. Stuff her into some giant mittens and a neon puffy coat and she’d almost be the spitting image of her eight-year-old-self. Cute little “big-hands” Tutu holding his hand in silence as they skated around his local rink.

“Trisha invited me.” 

“Oh Trisha invited you,” Tessa sneers, folding her arms over her chest and tucking her hands underneath her armpits, chewing on the inside of her cheek, “She invited you _here_? To a Rick Astley concert? Scott, you hate Rick Astley.”

“I know,” He laughs without any real humor, “But when somebody asks you on a date the polite thing is usually to say yes, not criticize their taste in music.”

“So this has nothing to do with the fact that you know I love oldies music and would be here with Matt.” Her expression says she already doesn’t believe him, whatever his answer may be, but despite what she may think that had _not_ been his intention.

If it had, he would have planned it out better. 

“I didn’t know you’d be here. You only said he was taking you to a concert. How was I supposed to know which one?”

“That’s not the point!”

"Then what is the point?”

“The point is we agreed to take a break. This is the exact opposite of taking a break. And you brought a girl.”

"It wasn’t on purpose, okay?” He runs his hand through his hair, forgetting that he’d put gel in it tonight in a last-minute attempt to look nicer than normal, and he scowls at the goo now stuck between his fingers. “The second I saw you I was going to suggest we leave, but that’s when you came over and said hello. I’m surprised you didn’t just ignore me.”

He spins away and heads towards the bar at the back of the venue, grabbing a handful of napkins an wiping off his hand before wadding them up and tossing them in the garbage. Anything to distract himself from the increasingly obvious fact that she really, _really_ doesn’t want anything to do with him right now. He half expects her not to be there when he turns back around, to have escaped back to Matt, but she’s right behind him – still frowning and ready to fight.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly that. It’s clear you can’t stand to be around me.”

“That’s not true!” She shakes her head so vigorously that he’s worried she’ll give herself a headache. “That is _not_ true. Never.”

“That’s how you’re making me feel,” He accuses, folding his arms and sagging against the nearby wall, accidentally sending a few band advertisements and a condom ad fluttering to the ground. They’ve moved into some sort of alcove, and while it’s not that much quieter than the main floor, it does given them enough distance not to need to yell anymore.

“Scott,” Tessa sags, the fight going out of her as she curls in on herself, lifting her thumb to her mouth the chew on the corner of her nail, “That is the _opposite_ of my problem.”

“Yeah, yeah,” He waves her off, faking a nonchalance that he doesn’t feel to hide how much her rejection hurts, “We spend too much time together and it’s overwhelming for you. Yada, yada, yada. I heard it the first time, Tess. I’d really rather not hear it again, thanks.”

Her hand lands on his arm, fingers wrapping around him tightly, and he can feel the heat of her seeping in through his denim jacket. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“That’s how it sounded.”

“Scott, no.” She forcibly digs his hand out from where it’s shoved between his arm and his ribcage and takes it in hers, lacing their fingers together in their signature hold, and against his better judgment, he lets her. The touch too good to refuse.

“All week I’ve felt like you wanted to get rid of me.”

“No!” She insists again, stepping in close enough that their toes are touching. “I could never give you up, Scott.”

On stage Rick Astley bursts into the first line of the chorus of his most iconic song, mimicking Tessa’s words like a live-action rick roll, and suddenly they’re both laughing. The two of them falling into each other as they dissolve into peals of full-bodied laughter that seem to be never-ending.

“Never gonna let me down?” He asks through his tears, and Tessa lets out the most unladylike snort – setting him off laughing all over again.

“Never gonna run around and desert you,” She nods solemnly, barely containing her giggles long enough to get the words out, and Scott can’t help himself – he pulls her in for a bone-crushing hug and plants a kiss on the side of her forehead. Holding her as tightly as she’ll let him and only feeling like himself again when her heart is beating against his own. 

Her scent is overwhelming from this close and he sighs and buries his face into her neck, breathing in deeply. Tension he didn’t realize he’d been carrying all week releasing at finally having her in his arms again. “I missed you, kiddo.”

“I missed you, too.” She slips her arms underneath his denim jacket to hug him better, her soft lips grazing his collarbone as she mirrors is position, and all is right in the world. Puzzle pieces clicking into place.

“Can our break be over, T?” He pleads, “ _Please_? It’s killing me.”

“Oh god,” She makes a strange noise into his shoulder and her arms inadvertently clench tighter around his ribs, “Me too. I don’t know what I was thinking. Worst idea ever.”

“I mean, one day is fine, maybe two, but _five_?” He leans back just enough to arch his eyebrow at her, his tone clearly shifting from serious to teasing, “That’s a war crime, Virtch. I should have you brought up on criminal charges.” 

“And just what would those charges be?”

“Cruel and unusual punishment via withholding your friendship from a man who clearly needs it to stay alive. I’d ask for you to be locked away, but that would only make the problem worse.”

Tessa laughs, the sound a balm on his bruised soul, but then grows more serious as she fiddles with the buttons on his plaid shirt. “You always have my friendship, Scott. Nothing could ever change that. I was just… a little confused, I guess, about a few things. I needed some space to clear my head.”

“But not five whole days.”

“No, five days may have been excessive.” She winks, “But you should know if you choose to prosecute, my sister is my lawyer and she’s undefeated in the courtroom.”

“Gah!” He pretends to gasp, “How could I forget? I rescind my claim. You’re free to go.” He drops his arms and steps backwards and they both laugh, but then – as if neither of them can bear to part even as a joke – they come back together again in another fierce hug.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Tessa tucks her head under his chin and Scott rubs his fingers up and down her spine, idly wishing he could take her leather jacket off so that the feeling wasn’t so muted.

“Good.”

They linger there through the rest of the song, swaying to the beat, but not really dancing. Basking in the reconnection. More than a few people look at them funny, and one girl sees them, turns to her boyfriend and says in a biting accusation, “Why don’t you ever hold _me_ like that, _Steve_!?” but otherwise their bubble is safe and secure and unbothered by the outside world.

That is, until the song ends and Tessa steps away with an apologetic smile. “We should really go find Matt and Trisha. They're probably wondering where we are.”

“Who?” Scott cocks his head, then grins when Tessa slugs him on the arm.

“Come on.”

They find them right where they left them, now more flushed and sweaty from all the dancing, laughing and chatting happily about who knows what, and Scott briefly entertains the idea of leaving them to finish the concert together and asking Tessa if she wants to catch a late-night movie instead.

"There you are!” Trisha smiles brightly, taking his hand, “I wondered where you’d disappeared to.”

“Oh, uh…” Scott looks around for an excuse and finds the bar, “We just needed a drink. It’s hot in here.” He slips his hand out of Trisha’s under the guise of pointing at the bar and then gesturing at the crowd, not missing the way both Tessa’s and Matt’s eyes catch onto the gesture – their thoughts equally impossible to read.

“A drink sounds great. I’m parched!”

“Why don’t Scott and I go get some for you lovely ladies,” Matt suggests, smiling at Tessa and tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, and there’s that gnawing, ugly sensation in Scott’s stomach again. One he hotly refuses to acknowledge.

_Matt is your friend. Matt is your friend. Matt is necessary for your team’s success and therefore not a viable target for Jeff’s rotten tomatoes in the vegetable drawer at home._

“That would be very nice,” Tessa nods.

Scott really hopes the color in her cheeks is from the temperature in the room.

“We’ll be right back.”

Matt jerks his head and Scott follows him towards the bar, elbowing their way into the line for drinks that’s inconveniently located next to the line for the women’s bathroom. “So Trisha seems like a really great woman.” He says conversationally, and Scott nearly jumps.

“What? Oh – yeah. She does.”

"I’m glad the two of you showed up tonight. It’s been fun double-dating, hasn’t it?” He shoots Scott a look out of the corner of his eye, and Scott quickly smiles to mask the look of disgust he’d been wearing.

 _Fun_ is reconciling and being with Tessa. Fun is not double-dating with her and someone else.

Still, Scott hums and agrees, “Absolutely.”

“I’m really lucky Tess agreed to come out with me tonight. She’s such a great girl, you know? I mean, I always knew she was, but ever since my break-up she’s really been there. I totally get why you care so much about her as a friend. She’s special.”

 _You get that star-struck look off your face right now!_ Scott mentally yells at him, outwardly nodding along. “She really is.”

“It’s amazing how much of her attention she gives you when you’re alone together, too. Like she wants to remember everything about you. She really makes you feel like the most important person to her when you’re together, you know? Not many people are like that. It’s a gift.”

Okay, what the fuck does that mean? On the surface it sounds like anybody talking about someone they’re dating (gross), but in the context of what Tessa had said last weekend – about how she and Matt are friends like she and Scott are – well… it distinctly sounds like Matt is _alluding_ to something. Something that makes Scott uneasy. 

“I know it’s none of my business,” He starts slowly, wishing he were anywhere but here right now and willing himself not to ask the question, but too desperate for an answer to shut up and walk away, “But are you and Tess… hooking up?”

He refuses to acknowledge that it could be anything more than that.

Matt shoots him a look. “You’re right, it is none of your business.”

 _Shit_.

That’s not a no which means it’s probably a yes and _fuck_ now Scott’s going to have to reconcile that in his head without pulverizing his teammate who by all accounts is a very nice man and an excellent hockey player and who prior to last week he’d always really liked and gotten along with. 

_Tessa is a grown woman who can have sex with whoever she wants_ , he reminds himself. Repeating the sentence over and over in the hope that eventually it won’t make him want to punch the nearest surface. _Friends support friends getting laid because sex feels good and Tessa deserves to feel good even though it should be me making her feel – NO SCOTT_.

“But no,” Matt says, taking Scott by surprise and jerking him out of the dangerous road he was heading down (careening right past the bright red Off-Limits sign), “We’re not sleeping together. We’re just friends.”

Scott’s not sure he even knows what that means anymore. But as long as there’s no under-the-clothes action going on, he’ll take it. “Oh.”

“Jesus Christ, Scott,” Matt huffs out a laugh, running his hand through his sweaty hair before straightening the collar of his t-shirt, “You’re so predictable.”

“What?”

Matt laughs again and orders a couple of beers, before shaking his head, “You say you don’t want to be with Tessa, that you’re just friends. It’s all any of us ever hear from you. But you can’t stand the idea of her being with anyone else!”

“That’s not true!”

Tessa has had her share of boyfriends before and it’s never been an issue. Ask anybody and they’ll tell you that Scott was friendly and nice to all of them. It’s not his fault none of them stuck around for very long after meeting him. Some guys just can’t handle their girlfriends having a guy for a best friend.

“Oh yeah? Then why did your hand immediately curl into a fist when I wouldn’t answer your question?”

Scott looks down at his offending hand and consciously uncurls it, flexing and unflexing his fingers. “I’m just protective of her. We’ve known each other a long time and it’s my responsibility as her best friend to look out for her. To make sure she’s being taken care of.”

“That’s bullshit.” Matt snorts. “I have no doubt that you want her to be taken care of, I just think you’d rather kill somebody than let another man do the job you’ve so obviously claimed for yourself.”

“If the right guy came along, I’d be happy for Tess!”

“I’ll try not to take that personally.”

“It’s not about you specifically,” Scott hastily backpedals, “I just wasn’t sure if your intentions were pure.”

“Scott,” Matt sighs, turning around and leaning his elbows against the bar, flicking his head towards where they can see Tessa smiling and dancing by herself to the music – her body moving effortlessly to the beat, “Look at that woman. She’s a goddess and someday a man is going to come along who recognizes that and who catches her eye and they’re going to fall in love with each other and get married and he’ll become her best friend, and where will you be?”

That floors him. Not the falling in love part. Not even the getting married part so much. But the best friends part… that’s _his_ job. He’s her best friend. Scott’s not sure how to even begin to define himself without that as the cornerstone of his identity. The idea of that aspect of their relationship changing is… incomprehensible.

“I’ll…” Scott stammers, feeling strangely winded, “If Tessa said she was happy, I’d be by her side supporting her.”

Matt turns to face him and outright laughs. “No, you’ll be off getting drunk somewhere wondering how you could be so blind for so long, and it will be too late to do anything about it.”

Scott tears his eyes away from Tessa and the horrifying prospect of being replaced by some blank-faced, no-named man as her best friend, wishing Matt had never put that thought into his head. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“No, _you_ don’t know,” Matt sighs, “And it’s a damn shame.”

Scott pushes away from the bar and moves towards the dance floor. “I have a date to get back to.”

“Actually…” Trisha pipes up from the line for the women’s bathroom behind him and Scott whirls around, “Um… I think it might be best if I go.”

The look on her face and the sinking feeling in his stomach is not a good combination, and guilt washes over him. “Listen, if you heard any of that it’s not –“

“Have a nice life, Scott,” She smiles sadly, “I had fun tonight, but I don’t think we’re right for each other.”

“I think I’ll head out, too,” Matt pipes up, handing Scott two of the beers he’d ordered before turning towards Trisha, “Do you need a ride home?”

She smiles more genuinely at him, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. “Are you sure it isn’t any trouble?”

“No trouble at all. Goodbye, Scott. Tell Tess I’ll text her later.”

Scott watches the two of them go, his head a mess of emotions. Guilt at being a bad date, relief that Trisha is gone, guilt at feeling relieved, and hanging over all of it like the executioner’s ax is black, churning dread at the thought of Matt’s prediction coming true.

“Hey, are you coming back to dance? I think there’s only one or two songs left.” Tessa snatches one of the beers and pops the lid off, swallowing half of it in one long go. “Where are the others? I thought I saw them over here with you.”

“Um… they left.” Scott shrugs and opens his own beer, lifting it to his lips just for something to do with his hands.

What would Tessa look for in a new best friend that she can’t get from him? What do boyfriends provide that he doesn’t, other than…

_Sex._

Clearly the answer here is that a boyfriend could provide her with certain aspects of physical affection that Scott, as her platonic friend, cannot.

Well, there’s a simple solution to that. They should be friends with benefits. Then she won’t need to look anywhere else for fulfillment and everything can continue on the way it always has. He already knows they’ll be great at it (given their successful foray into that arena already), and nobody tries to make Tessa Virtue happier than he does. It’s perfect.

“Oh…” She seems to ponder this for a moment, before looking up at him curiously, “You’re not going home with Trisha then?”

“Nope!” He emphatically pops the P to hide the shudder that her suggestion evokes. It’s nonsensical given his history and penchant for one-night-stands, but he’s feeling kind of… over that these days. There’s no emotional connection and he misses that.

Tessa bites her lip to keep from smiling and runs her index finger around the lip of her beer bottle. “That’s unexpected.”

“Is it?” He peers curiously at her and steps a little closer.

“I just assumed…” Her voice trails off suggestively and she makes a half-hearted obscene gesture that has a laugh bursting out of him. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to have caught that moment on camera.

“You know what they say about people who assume things, Virtch,” He teases, winking at her and knocking his beer against hers with a clink. 

She pretends to be offended, widening her stance and gasping, “Are you calling me an ass?”

“… No?”

“Rude!”

“I’m not!” He laughs, throwing his arm over her shoulders and leading her towards the exit, the concert long forgotten. “You have a great ass and we should get it home.”

“Can we pick up doughnuts on the way? I’m starving.”

“We can pick up _real_ food on the way,” Scott counteroffers, “I could murder a hamburger right now.”

“Ooh!” Tessa claps her hands together, already licking her lips, “From that place with the great fries – the really thick ones? And milkshakes?”

“I’d never forget the milkshakes,” He nods solemnly, returning Tessa’s grin when she beams at him.

“Deal!”

They end up sitting side by side on her front steps, their meals unwrapped on their laps and a large box of fries tucked between their legs where they can share them. Tessa has the lid of her chocolate milkshake popped off so that she can dip her fries in it, every so often trying to convince Scott to give it a try even though he hasn’t fallen for that since they were fourteen.

“You weren’t very friendly towards Matt tonight,” She comments, licking liquid chocolate off her thumb in a way that’s far too distracting for her own good before popping half a fry into her mouth, “Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

“Yeah, well, he had it coming.” Scott finishes the last bite of his burger and balls up the wrapper, tossing it into the open paper bag at their feet. “We don’t date each other’s co-workers. He broke the rule.”

“I told you,” Tessa rolls her eyes and picks up a napkin and dabs the corner of his mouth, wiping away the ketchup and mustard streaked there, “It wasn’t a date. We’re just friends. But even if it was, technically that would mean I broke the rule, not him.”

“Still,” Scott picks up his spoon and steals a scoop of her shake, “The point still stands. It’s too messy getting involved with people the other person works with _or_ your coworkers’ close friends and family. Besides, you already have a talented, funny, not to mention good looking, hockey player in your life – why would you need somebody else?”

The question is, perhaps, more pointed than the conversation calls for, but he’s still smarting from Matt’s comments earlier. He doesn’t need anything more than this, why does she? Everything he could ever want is right here on these steps with him (barring his daughter, of course).

“I’ll fall in love with somebody else someday, Scott,” Tessa says quietly before shoving three fries in her mouth at once.

The words, echoing Matt’s from earlier and his own thoughts now, prick at Scott’s chest in a way that’s painful and steals his breath away. He doesn’t like it.

 _Why_? A nagging voice asks him, _Why do things have to change?_ He won’t let them change – not if he can help it.

Tessa cleans up the food on her lap and tosses it into the paper bag with his, brushing crumbs off her jeans and drawing his attention to her legs. Maybe if he just…

He watches himself place his hand on her thigh, not too high to be alarming, but not too low to have her miss his point, either, and holds his breath – waiting for her to push him away. She goes incredibly still under his touch, but doesn’t say anything, and he takes that as a good sign.

“But not today,” He murmurs, flexing his fingers and brushing the inseam of her pants, sliding his hand higher bit by bit until her breath audibly hitches.

“No,” She breathes, squeezing her thighs together around his hand, “Not today.”

He looks at her then, wondering if that was a signal. Can’t _not_ look at her. And what he finds isn’t the rejection or hesitation he feared, but open curiosity mixed with a dash of hesitation and such blatant adoration that he can’t help but lean forward and press his lips against hers.

It’s heaven. Her lips are soft and warm and inviting. Pure intoxication that has him coming back for more and more. Each press of their lips together filling his brain with white noise that blocks any other thought besides _yes_ and _more of this, please_ , and _fuck._

 _Their first kiss_ , he realizes with a sudden jolt – pulling back to look at her and shocked to find himself already gasping for air. Somehow both of his hands are cupping her face and he’d moved to kneel between her legs on the steps without even realizing it. Too consumed by her to notice his own actions.

Tessa watches him watching her, chest heaving, and slowly licks her lips, and with a groan Scott dives in again – burying one hand in her hair while the other finds her waist.

A car loudly honks its horn three times as it drives past, its occupants shouting something filthy and not worth repeating, and Scott drags himself away to flip them the bird over his shoulder – making Tessa giggle breathlessly.

“Wow,” He huffs out a disbelieving laugh and rubs his hands up and down her thighs, trying to regain his bearings.

“Yeah,” Tessa says softly, searching his face for something, although he’s not sure what, “What… what was that for?”

“I don’t know,” He laughs, then clamps his mouth shut when he sees the way Tessa’s face falls. “Tess,” He takes her hands and rubs the back of them with his thumbs, “I just… I’ve missed you so much this past week and… you know you’re the most important person to me, right? You know how much I care about you?”

“I know, Scott,” She sighs, nodding along, but he can tell it still isn’t enough.

“No, I –“ _Shit_ , he thinks, swallowing around the sudden lump in his throat, _please don’t let this fuck up our friendship, PLEASE_. Closing his eyes, he dares to say the words out loud that he’s forbidden himself from even so much as thinking for the past thirteen years. “I want you.”

Tessa’s face jerks upwards, her vivid green eyes finding his in a flash, “You do?” He nods, praying that she won’t be upset with him for crossing that line. “Want me how?”

“I want… to show you how important and amazing you are. I want to make you happy in… all kinds of ways. _Every_ way. I want,” He sighs and looks down at where their hands are still clasped together in her lap, “I want to be your _best_ friend. Forever.”

“You want to be,” She hesitates, waiting until he finally looks back up at her, “Best friends… with benefits?”

Breathing out a sigh of relief that she understands, Scott nods – impulsively lifting one of her hands to his mouth so that he can kiss the back of it. “Yeah. I want _you_.”

That seems to be the magic word, because Tessa relaxes and leans forward to kiss him again. A quick peck before pulling back so that they they can’t get carried away. “I want you, too.” He grins and leans forward, but she places her hand on his chest to stop him. “But I’m not sure that’s such a great idea.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” She sucks in a deep breath, “We’re so close. Emotions are bound to get involved and if it’s just… if it’s just _fuckin_ _g_ then one of us is going to get hurt.”

“Tess,” Scott chuckles and shakes his head, ignoring what hearing her curse like that does to certain parts of him, “It could never be just fucking between us. I think this will strengthen our relationship.”

He knows what ‘just fucking’ is like, and this – this isn’t it. This is the exact opposite of that.

Tessa snorts, eyeing him skeptically. “You do?” 

“I do,” He answers seriously, “This is totally your choice and if you tell me right here, right now, that you don’t ever want to have sex with me I promise I’ll never bring it up again. But I think we could have something really special here.”

“I do, too,” Tessa sighs, brushing his hair away from his forehead, and Scott leans into her touch – welcoming it. “But what we have is already so special, Scott, I don’t want to mess it up. I don’t want _anybody_ to be hurt.”

“I don’t want to mess it up, either,” He confesses softly, hoping she understands what he means, and Tessa smiles regretfully and strokes his jawline with the tips of her fingers – tracing the bridge of his nose and the shape of his lips with a tender touch that has his chest aching.

“Which is why we really shouldn’t.”

“I – you’re right. I’m sorry.” He moves around to sit on the bottom step, leaning against her knee. “I’m sorry. It was selfish of me to suggest it.” He never should have thought that he could prevent her from moving on by adding _benefits_ to their friendship. As if he could tie her to himself with sex. It was moronic and he regrets suggesting it.

(Not the kiss though, he could never regret that.)

They sit there quietly as the minutes pass, silently watching the cars drive by while the sky grows darker and darker and the air becomes too chilly to comfortably sit outside any longer. And Scott struggles to reconcile himself to a future where the best thing for her might not be him.

“I should –“ He starts to say, moving to stand up and say goodnight, but Tessa stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Wait, don’t say goodnight yet.”

He turns around to look at her, and finds a woman at war with herself. Apparently having some sort of vicious internal debate before she bites her lips and nods at the sky. Tessa closes her eyes shut tight and squeezes his shoulder once, twice, then again before swallowing and saying, “Just once.”

"What?” Surely she isn’t –

“Once. Just once tonight.”

She blinks her eyes open, still staring up at the night sky where stars would be visible if they weren’t in the city, and Scott kneels between her legs again, trapping her so that she can’t avoid him when he asks her, “Are you talking about having sex?”

Might as well be straightforward and to the point. There can be no room for misunderstandings here.

Tessa presses her lips together and nods, but Scott shakes his head. “Nuh-uh, Virtch. Use your words. I’m not doing this if you aren’t one hundred percent sure that you want to do it, too.”

She blows out the breath she was holding and he’s hit with a face full of chocolate that almost makes him laugh, before finally, _finally_ looking at him. “I, Tessa Virtue, want to have sex with you, Scott Moir. Tonight. Upstairs. In my bed. Was that clear enough?” She enunciates the whole thing like each piece is its own sentence, and with each word Scott’s smile grows until it’s so bright it has Tessa blushing and ducking her head and punching him in the arm for good measure while muttering, “Shut up.”

“Just so we’re clear, Tessa Virtue,” He begins, chuckling when she tries and fails to glare at him, “You, Tessa Virtue, want to have sex with me, Scott Moir, tonight.”

“Yes, you idiot,” She mumbles, “But only tonight, okay? This is a one-time thing. For the sake of our friendship.”

“For the sake of our friendship.” He holds up his hand with his pinky out, nodding encouragingly when Tessa raises her eyebrow – clearly thinking _what are we, ten?_ – before she links her pinky with his and they swear on it.

“We should probably take this inside.” She gestures to the street and general vicinity, and Scott stands and pulls her to her feet. Getting arrested for public indecency is not on his bucket list. 

“Good idea. Hey, Virtch?” He tugs on her hand to stop her from opening the door just yet, “Before we go in, I have to ask – is this like a one _orgasm_ thing, or a whatever we can accomplish by midnight thing?”

Tessa laughs despite the way her cheeks burn crimson, “I like your optimism. It’s whatever we can do before Jordan gets home.”

"A challenge!” He rubs his hands together, anxiously waiting for her to get the door unlocked. “Excellent.”

The second she gets the door open he pushes her inside and up against the wall, spinning her around so that he can kiss her again while kicking the door shut with his foot. He can feel her wince when it slams loudly, but he just doubles-down on his efforts to make her forget even her own name.

If he only has tonight, he intends to make it the best night she’s ever had.

He drags his lips from hers to run across her jaw, then peppers kisses up and down the side of her neck – relishing every little sigh and moan that comes from the back of her throat as she arches into him. Her hands slip into his back pockets and squeeze, encouraging him to grind against her, and that’s an invitation he’ll accept any day.

"Jesus, Tess,” He hitches her leg up around his hip to find a better angle and catches her watching them in the mirror on the entryway wall behind them, “I’m beginning to think you have a kink.”

She blushes, but doesn’t try to hide, instead making a point out of sliding one of her hands underneath his jacket and dragging it up – exposing his lower back in the glass while he continues to move his hips against hers. “I’m creating new memories,” She teases, “It’s good for your brain health.”

“Call it what you want,” He laughs and sucks a mark into her collarbone, indulging in a kink of his own, “It’s fucking hot, babe. Do you want me to go down on you right here where you can see it?”

His dick gets harder at the thought and he wonders if she’d ever consider making a sex tape with him. Hypothetically, of course, since this won’t be happening again, but still… He’s never wanted to before – the risk to his career too great to chance it on some fling – but with her, well…

Tessa makes a funny sort of choking sound and shakes her head, “No! We can’t do that down here!”

“Why not?” To play with her a little bit, he shoves her jacket off her shoulders, letting it fall unceremoniously to the floor, and starts to sink to his knees – maintaining eye contact while toying with the button of her jeans. 

Her pupils are blown wide and he can see her chest heaving with the effort to keep her breathing steady. “Right by the _front door_?”

“I mean,” He pops the button open, “We’d lock it first, obviously.”

Tessa’s buries her hands in his hair and holds on tight, and he’s so grateful he didn’t let his mother cut it last time he was home. “We greet people here!”

“Not while doing that, I hope,” He winks at her and licks her skin underneath her bellybutton. 

“Scott!”

“Ugh,” He laughs and stands up, supremely satisfied with the look of disappointment on her face, “You’re right. So uncivilized.”

“Are you making fun of me?” She shoves his shoulder and he pretends to stumble backwards towards the stairs, hoping she’ll follow and smiling when she does.

“I would _never_!”

“You’re going to pay for that!” She launches herself at him and he barely has time to catch her before she’s wrapping her legs around his waist – holding onto him like a koala. “Now you have to carry me upstairs.”

“How is that fair?” He laughs, adjusting his grip so that she won't fall.

“You got me all hot and bothered and didn’t follow through – now my legs won’t work properly.”

She’s joking and he can feel her already beginning to loosen her hold to walk up the stairs herself, but he doesn’t want that. Instead he grabs onto her thighs and hoists her higher up on his hips. “Believe me, Virtch, I intend to follow through.”

Tessa squeals and grips him tighter as he starts his ascent. It’s more difficult this way than it was when he carried her bridal style a few weeks ago, but part of that is probably because by the fifth step Tessa’s realized there are better things to do with her mouth than tease him.

By the time he reaches the top it’s Scott who’s hot and bothered, and he surprises her by pressing her up against the wall instead of heading towards her bedroom – capturing her lips in a searing kiss that leaves them both lightheaded.

“Bed,” Tessa gasps as he rucks her shirt up under her armpits and starts kissing the tops of her breasts, “Bed, Scott!”

“Mmm,” He hums, sucking on her nipple through the thin silk of her plain lavender bra, “Bedding Scott is a good idea.”

“Yes,” She half-agrees, half moans when he uses his fingers to twist and tug on the other one, “It is a good idea. But we need a _bed_.”

“Walls are good,” He runs his tongue along the band of her bra before pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses down her abs and over her bellybutton piercing. “Walls provide back support.”

“So do – guh,” Her words are cut off by his mouth and he uses the distraction to slip his fingers inside her pants and underwear, swallowing her moans when he presses his middle finger against her clit and rests it there. Applying gentle pressure, but not moving.

“Tess,” He groans, using his free hand to tilt her head and give him more room to kiss underneath her ear, “God you’re so wet.”

She whimpers and tries to move her hips, encouraging him to do something, but he waits – focusing on kissing her instead. Relishing in feeling her drenched with desire for him. For _him_ and nobody else.

“Scott,” She finally tears her mouth away, rutting wildly against his hand, “Please!”

“Please what?”

“Please don’t be an ass!”

It’s so unexpected that he busts up laughing, burying his head in the crook of her neck, and she swats the back of his head with the hand not currently clinging to his ass.

“I’m serious! Do something!”

“I got you, Virtch, I got you,” He grins and kisses underneath her jaw and finally begins to move his fingers – slipping two inside her easily and rubbing her clit with his thumb.

It’s different from eating her out. Not better, exactly, but different. He likes that this way he can watch her face. Can catalog all the expressions she makes. Memorize the breathless little gasps and the way her eyelids flutter shut and how she bites her bottom lip when he does something particularly clever.

He understands why she likes mirrors now. Who wouldn’t want to have a front row seat to _this_?

"You're so gorgeous, Tess. The most beautiful woman I've ever seen. Inside and out." 

Tessa comes with a wordless cry, her mouth falling open and her head hitting the wall, and Scott watches her through it all – pausing only to kiss her as her come coats his fingers and her walls clench tightly around him.

“Fuck,” She gasps once she’s able to open her eyes again, and he smirks. Pulling his hand out from her pants and lifting his fingers to his mouth, watching her while he sucks on them. “Fucking fuck.”

He releases his fingers with a pop and then offers them to her, and she surprises him by opening her mouth and letting him place them inside – wrapping her lips them and hollowing out her cheeks as she sucks _hard_ and flicks her tongue against them.

“God, Tess, you might be the death of me.”

“I hope not.” The words sound funny spoken around his fingers, but she merely smiles and sucks on them again – this time while reaching down and squeezing his length through his jeans.

“Okay!” He squeaks, jerking away from her, “That thing you were saying about beds? Excellent idea. Let's go."

He grabs her hand and drags her laughing into her bedroom, the two of them stumbling as they try to get rid of the rest of their clothes as quickly as they can. Sometimes helping (his shirt, her bra), sometimes acting as more of a hindrance, (her pants, his underwear). Until finally they’re both naked and Tessa is pushing him down onto the middle of the mattress.

“Your turn,” She smirks and he’s not prepared at all for the way she crawls over him and bites her way down his chest. It’s not painful, but it _is_ hot as hell – watching her nipping at him then soothing each spot with her tongue as she gets lower and lower. It’s so much better than in Pyeongchang when it was dark and he was drunk. Now he can see her in all her glory, and that fact alone almost has him coming the second she gets her mouth on him.

Her mouth is so wet and warm and _dear god_ he doesn’t know if he should kill or thank whoever told her to do that with her tongue. He’s putty in her hands. Clearly, when they were together in Korea she’d been taking notes, because she hits every one of his spots. Even remembering how much he loves having the inside of his thighs lightly scratched while she sucks on him – the contrasting sensations heightening everything.

“Tess,” He groans, wrapping one of his hands in her hair and gently pulling her off his cock – clamping his eyes shut when she wipes away the trail of spit from her lower lip and smiles at him, “You gotta stop, babe, or this is gonna be over way too soon.”

“We’ve got time,” She shrugs simply and then takes him completely in her mouth again, doubling down on her efforts. Fixing her position so that she can take more of him, she reaches up to hold him down – his hand flying to cover hers on his chest, trapping it over his heart – and her eyes find his as she swallows around his dick.

That’s all it takes. The feeling of her throat contracting around him too much to handle. And Scott comes harder than he thinks he ever has in his life. Stars bursting on the back of his eyelids while Tessa swallows it all and gently rubs his chest and hip with her fingers to help keep him grounded.

His mind is gone - his limbs turned to liquid - and he wants to fall asleep so badly. It’s like she’s sucked all of his energy right out of him. Literally. But this isn’t Korea and he refuses to let that happen again. So the second he can breathe he grabs her arms and hauls her up his body.

“Scott! What are you do- Oh _fuck_.”

He gets her positioned over him, knees on either side of his head, and with a kiss on the inside of each thigh, he dives in. Lapping at her folds with gusto before latching onto her clit and sucking. He’s too sleepy to keep his eyes more than half open, which is a damn shame, but that just leaves his brain more energy to focus on what his mouth is doing.

He hears it when her hands slap the wall behind the headboard as he buries his tongue in her cunt, and he feels it when he legs shiver and shake when he uses his fingers to spread her wide so that he can lick at her like a gourmet meal – his other hand finding her nipples again so that they’re not neglected (his dick twitching when he finds one of her hands already there), and he tastes it when she comes – salty sweet on his tongue and dripping all over his chin. It’s a bevy of sensations, each one better than the last, and he pries his eyes open just in time to see her collapse forward to press her head against her hand – her breasts heaving beautifully above him with each gasping breath.

“Oh,” She shuts her eyes and breathes in deep, trying to steady herself, “My,” She moves off of his face and collapses onto her side, perpendicular to him with her legs over his chest, “God.”

“Not bad, eh?” He winks at her and starts stroking her leg. Up and down the entire surface of her bare skin – although paying particular attention to the little whimpers she makes when he moves up the inside of her knee and higher.

“Remember that thing you said about dying earlier? Something like that.”

He laughs and leans up on his elbow, glancing at the clock on her nightstand. It’s almost midnight, and while he doesn’t expect anything to burst into a pumpkin, he’s not sure how strict she’ll be about this one night rule. Which means that sleep isn’t an option right now for either of them. He wants to make her come one more time, and he wants to be inside her when he does.

“Tess,” He pokes her hip, rousing her from the dream she’d been slipping into, “We’re not done yet.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to come again,” She frowns, rolling onto her side and twisting around so that they’re parallel and facing each other.

“Sure you can,” He grins and encourages her to lay back, lifting himself over her and settling in between her open thighs. He can feel the heat of her center pressed against his dick, hard again after eating her out and ready to go, and it takes every ounce of his self-control not to slip inside her right then and there. “You’re Tessa Virtue – you can do anything! You're brilliant," He kisses her cheek, "And amazing," her other cheek, "You knocked your LSAT out of the park," the bridge of her nose, "And I believe in you.”

She giggles and lifts her chin up for a kiss on her lips, which he happily obliges her with.

“Do you have a condom?”

“In the nightstand.”

He leans over her to retrieve it and that’s when they hear the front door open downstairs.

“Tess! Are you home? Why was the door unlocked? And why did I find a bag of garbage on the steps? And why is your leather jacket on the floor down here? Have we been robbed? The TV seems fine.”

At the sound of her sister’s voice Tessa flies into action, bucking her hips with a surprising amount of strength that sends him rolling to the side with an _oof!_

“Get dressed!” She whisper-shouts, throwing pieces of his clothes at him as she finds them, nearly tripping in her haste to put her underwear and jeans back on. “Why aren’t you moving?”

“Uh…” He stares at her for a moment longer, trying to get his brain to catch up. In his defense, all of the blood in his body has to reroute itself, and that can take a second or two.

“Quick, Scott, seriously!” Tessa kneels down and digs around under the bed for a minute before finding his shirt and tossing it up over the bed. “She can’t know about this!”

He jumps into action, getting dressed in record time while Tessa fixes her hair in the mirror (a travesty if he ever saw one, because sex hair is a good look on her) and cracks open her windows to help disperse the rather noticeable smell of sex.

She’s only just finished shoving him into the chair in the corner of her room and handing him a book before diving onto the rumpled bed when Jordan bursts in holding a lamp above her head.

"Hey, Jo,” Tessa says as casual as ever, looking up over the top of her book (it's upside down, but Scott doesn't mention it), “What were you yelling about?”

“Oh my god, Tess,” Jordan sets the lamp down and throws her hand over her heart, “You scared me half to death. I thought you were a robber. What’s with the mess downstairs?”

“Scott and I were eating outside and we forgot to clean up. I’m sorry.”

“Scott?” Jordan’s eyebrows shoot to her hairline when he waves at her from his spot in the corner, trying to act like he’s totally absorbed by (he glances at the cover) – the Ruth Bader Ginsberg biography Tessa handed him. “What is he – I thought you two were – huh?”

“Our break is over,” Tessa shrugs, “Everything’s all good here.”

“You’re both just…” She looks back and forth between them, her surprise not fading, “Reading? At almost twelve-thirty in the morning?”

“Is it that time already?” Tessa asks, her voice too bright and innocent to be believable, and Scott winces at the suspicion that flashes in Jordan’s eyes. “Scott, you better get home to Hannah.”

“You know what, T? You’re so right. Where did the time go?” He stands up and puts the book back on her nightstand. His body does a funny sort of jerking motion as he starts to lean over to give her a kiss, then stops himself, and he sort of stares awkwardly at Jordan for a minute before adding, “I guess I’ll just go home. Um… bye, Tess. Thanks for,” She shoots him a look and he feels his ears get hot, “The book. It was a great book. I’d like to finish it, sometime.” Tessa blushes bright pink and he bites his lips to keep from smiling as he waves awkwardly goodbye. “See ya, Jordan.”

“Bye, Scott.”

She’s still looking at him like he’s an alien with a big green head, but Scott doesn’t stop to give her a chance to ask any more questions. Rushing home to take a cold shower and try to commit as much of tonight to memory as he can so that he can treasure it for years to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know! I promise I yell at him for his dumbassery as much as you do.


	14. i don't want you like a best friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeff moves out. Tessa celebrates her birthday. Scott gets to finish his book ;)

** i don't want you like a best friend **

****

“I can’t believe you’re moving all the way up to York.” Scott readjusts his grip on the giant cardboard box he’s currently helping Jeff move from the truck to his new brown-brick house, the two of them pretending not to struggle under its heavy weight. Inside it he can hear glass clinking precariously and it makes him pray harder that his fingers won’t slip.

“You say that like it’s a different country. It’s barely a thirty minute drive. Step here.” The box lifts as Jeff goes backwards up the step on the sidewalk and Scott carefully follows his lead. The last thing he wants is to trip while holding all of Jeff and Justin’s kitchenware. He’d never hear the end of it if he was responsible for the death of Justin’s grandma’s fine china.

He can see the headline now: _Star Hockey Player Smashed Over Broken Glass._

Scott steps to the side to avoid the wooden railing and huffs as he lifts the box higher to accommodate the steep incline of the steps going up to the porch. “That might as well be a million kilometers during rush hour. We’ll never see each other.”

“We have plans for poker night on Thursday,” Jeff snorts to mask his grunt, “That’s five days from now.”

"Is Scott still whining about you moving in with Justin?” Tessa bounces out of the front door and holds it open wide, ponytail swinging - the blue wood perfectly matching her blue sports bra (not that Scott is noticing), and smiles teasingly at them. “I swear his withdrawal symptoms are worse than Hannah’s right now. I’m not sure if he’ll be able to survive without you!”

Jeff laughs along with her while Scott scowls at them both. Sure, his daughter is hitting that stranger-danger phase and doesn’t like to be parted from him (it had been hard leaving her with his parents for the weekend, even though he wanted them to have some bonding time), but it’s not a fair comparison. He’s not _whining_ , he’s just… bummed that one of his best friends won’t be living down the hall anymore.

If he wanted to do a closer analysis of his feelings, he’d say it’s because that means they’re all finally growing up and moving forward with their lives out of the carefree bachelor stage and he’s not ready to face that fact, but he’s not in the mood for deep emotional soul-searching so he grumbles silently and glares at Tessa while they carry the box past her and into the kitchen.

“Careful!” Justin sits up from where he’s screwing legs into the coffee table and holds his hands out like a guide on a tarmac, directing them to the newly assembled dining table in the kitchen. “Please go slow. There are –“

“Precious keepsakes in here,” Scott finishes for him with an exaggerated eye-roll at Tess, forcing her to cover her mouth to hide her giggle, “I know. You act like I’m super clumsy –“ Tessa moves her bra strap to the side to scratch an itch on her shoulder and his toe catches the leg of one of the barstools – making him stumble, barely managing to keep the box upright. Without the help of Tessa jumping in and saving it at the last minute, he would have been a dead man.

The three of them work together to get the box safely situated on the table, and Justin arches an eyebrow and folds his arms, tapping his foot, “You were saying?”

"Sorry. I’ll be more careful.”

“Thank you. Maybe leave the unboxing of that one to Tess, eh? She at least knows what to do with her hands.” Justin climbs up off the floor and follows Jeff back outside to retrieve more boxes, and Scott swallows thickly around his friend’s parting words.

 _Boy, does she ever,_ his traitorous brain thinks, providing him with the memories to prove it, and Scott forcibly shoves the images away and grabs the scissors to cut through the tape on the lid of the box. Now is not the time to be thinking about that. No matter how hot Tessa might look today in her sports bra and matching black and blue skintight leggings as she stretches on her tiptoes to put away the dishes in the cupboards.

It’s been nine days since the Rick Astley concert. Nine days since the night that started out as a date with other people and ended with the two of them nearly having sex. And it’s all Scott’s been able to think about. Especially his comment to her at the end that he’d really like to finish what they’d started.

She hadn’t had time to give him a real reply before he’d scurried out of there – escaping the curious stares and brewing questions he knew Jordan was itching to ask – so he has no idea if that’s an option. If she wants to continue where they left off, or if she was serious that it was only a one night thing - all offers off the table after April nineteenth. He really hopes not, but it’s hard to tell. Sometimes she looks at him and he thinks… but then it’s gone – replaced by normal Tessa expressions that aren’t as difficult to decipher.

Tessa grabs a mug from the box and reaches as high as she can, resting her left hand on one of the lower shelves to keep her balance, and Scott’s eyes are immediately drawn to the perfect arch of her back leading down to her ass. It’s so round and perky and perfectly shaped in those leggings and all he wants right now is to -

“Hey, since you’re just standing there, can you help me with these?” She pulls him out of his thoughts by pointing at the heavy mugs wrapped carefully in tissue paper, blowing a strand of hair out of her face as she unwraps one with a picture of Nyhavn on it. Each one is from a different city that Jeff and Justin have traveled to together, which is both cheesy and cute in equal measure. “Justin wants them on the top shelf, but I can’t reach that high.”

“Sure thing!” Anything to stop thinking about her ass…ets.

Scott grabs two of the mugs by the handle with one hand and, when she doesn’t step aside, places his other on her back for support as he reaches up to put them away. He wishes he could say it’s unintentional, letting his hand linger in the dip of her spine while carefully placing each mug side by side until they’re all safely stowed, but it’s not. It’s definitely purposeful - a simple touch to test out how receptive she is. If she’s still possibly open to the idea of them finishing what they started.

Her skin is soft and warm from all the physical exertion, exactly like it felt the other night when they’d been exerting themselves in a very different way, and he can’t resist touching her a bit more. Fingers trailing down her bare back as he lands on the heels of his feet again, tracing just above the waistline of her leggings, and he doesn’t miss the slight shiver that runs through her body. Goosebumps erupting in their wake. He plucks the glass she was holding out of her hands and puts that in the cupboard, too, while simultaneously daring to dip the tips of his fingers underneath her waistband, and Tessa’s eye’s shoot up to his.

“What are you doing?” Her eyes flash briefly to his mouth as she licks her lips, her brow furrowing in confusion, but she doesn’t push his hand away, which he takes as a very good sign. She isn’t repulsed by him, at least.

“Helping you put away the dishes.”

She levels him with a disbelieving look, but he just shrugs and continues lightly stroking her back. The truth is, he doesn’t quite know what he’s doing. All he knows is that now that the floodgates have been opened he can’t seem to close them properly. He can’t NOT want her. Whatever switch had been flipped in his brain seems to be stuck now (turned ON, of course). Logically he knows it was supposed to be a one-time thing, but physically? His body craves more. Every time he sees her it’s an exercise in restraint.

Tessa exhales sharply and turns her back to him to put another glass away, and he takes advantage of the opportunity to lean in and run his lips up the side of her neck, just the slightest whisper of a caress. She hums in the back of her throat – her head falling to the side to give him better access – even as her voice gently chastises, “Scott –“

“Scott!” Chiddy shouts from the direction of the entryway, sending them jumping away from each other. Certain her guilty face must be mirrored on his own. “Get your ass back out here and help us unload the mattress!”

“Duty calls,” He chuckles awkwardly and gives her a salute, and Tessa giggles breathlessly, looking anywhere but at him and grabbing a stack of plates to put in the cupboard. He should be rushing after Chiddy, running off to help his friends, but her blush has spread down her neck and chest and he can see her nipples straining underneath the stretchy fabric of her bra and his fingers twitch in response – urging him to touch her. To take her hand and drag her to the little alcove just off the living room and kiss her the way he’s been dreaming about doing for the past week and a half. He’s about to do just that when Chiddy shouts again.

“Seriously, Scott! Make yourself useful!”

“Go help before he kills you,” Tessa laughs, sucking in a deep breath before looking at him bright and easy - like nothing happened - her breathing back under control and that beautiful rosy pink hue fading.

“Chiddy would never kill me,” Scott states confidently, scoffing at the suggestion, but then the man in question pokes his head around the corner and with a single look disproves that statement. “Nevermind. I guess I was wrong. He’s scary.”

“Go,” She laughs, pushing lightly on his arm before getting back to work putting away the dishes, and so he does.

It’s a challenge to think of anything else after that. Physically his body is doing everything it’s supposed to – working up a sweat, heavy lifting, moving furniture. But mentally his brain is hyper-aware of where Tessa is at any given moment, what she looks like, the way she throws her head back and laughs loudly when either Chiddy or Jeff make a joke. The joyous sound echoing throughout the small house and filling it with tangible sunshine.

He uses every opportunity he can to touch her, his body incapable of resisting the urge. Affectionate little strokes on her arms when he walks past, thirty-second shoulder rubs, a pat on the ass when she bends over in front of him to pick up a lost screw. Not to mention the heated looks he knows he gives her any time he feels confident nobody else is looking.

It’s too much. It’s against the rules. It’s wrong.

But Tessa isn’t innocent, either.

She gives as good as she gets. Looking at him with what can only be described as “bedroom eyes” and running her hand along his shoulderblades and letting her nails scrape the back of his head when she ruffles his hair – sending shivers down his spine. And then there’s the frankly indecent amount of stretching she does any time he enters the room. Thank god Jeff and Justin are gay and don’t notice, because Scott’s had to adjust his pants more than once or twice. No straight man would be able to look away.

(He hopes they don’t notice, at least. But part of him wonders if this will be gossip fodder later once he’s gone.)

At one point he finds her in the study standing on a ladder screwing light bulbs into ceiling fixtures. The bright lights above her head highlighting the roots of her natural color that are beginning to show, and he smiles when he recognizes the crease between her eyebrows and straight set lips signifying intense concentration. A look he’d witnessed up close many, many times. Especially during her college years.

“How many virtues does it take to screw in a light bulb?” He jokes, pushing away from the doorway he’d been leaning against while he watched her, and Tessa lurches backwards in surprise at the sound of his voice – yelping as her foot slips off the rung where it had been perched, her arms flailing wildly, and Scott jumps forward with both hands held out to steady her – landing firmly on her ass and keeping her upright. 

“You good, T?” He asks, trying to be a gentleman by assessing her injury level before focusing on where his hands are. Groping her hadn’t been his intention, but he’s not exactly complaining about it either.

“Yep!” She squeaks, grabbing the top of the ladder for balance again before twisting her upper body around to look down at him, not exactly making an effort to move his hands away. _Interesting_. “You just surprised me, that’s all.”

“Good thing I’m always here to catch you then, eh?” He grins, his hands sort of massaging her ass while he teases her (she went to a Pilates this morning, he reasons, so he’s probably just helping soothe her sore glutes), and he doesn’t miss the way her eyelids briefly flutter closed.

“Actually, I’m the one who caught you earlier, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” He chuckles, digging his thumbs in at the base of her spine – biting his cheek to keep from smirking at the tiny moan that slips out from between her lips, “I guess we’re good at catching each other.”

Her left hand lands in his hair and he’s expecting her to stroke it or maybe lean down for a kiss (that would be awesome) when she ruffles it up like he’s a kid instead and sort of nudges him away. “And don’t you forget it!”

“Hey!” He protests loudly, giving her his biggest and best pout, but she just laughs and gets back to screwing in the last light bulb, leaning forward on the ladder so that his hands slip down to the back of her thighs.

Whether it’s intentional or not, she seems like she’s back to business, and he envies her ability to switch back and forth from flirting so easily. Whereas his brain can’t stop thinking about how at this height she’s at the perfect level for certain activities. It wouldn’t take much to… he could just slip her pants down, lean forward and…

“Tess?” Justin walks into the room, whistling and tossing a green apple high into the air before catching it like a baseball, “Jeff said to ask if you wanted a snack. He said green apples were your favorite.”

Scott doesn’t see the chair behind him, and so when he steps backwards to avoid getting caught literally red handed with his hands on Tessa he tumbles right down onto his ass in an undignified heap – the fallen chair wheels spinning comically slow and pitiful like he’s in an Abbot and Costello movie.

“Watch out!”

“Oh my god!” Tessa jumps down off the ladder and kneels down by his side, her hands running over him from head to toe checking for bumps and bruises, yet not quite touching him anywhere in case he really is hurt. “Are you okay? Is anything broken?”

“I’m fine,” He groans and sits up, rubbing at the bruise already forming on his lower back. Never mind Tessa’s ass, his own is going to be feeling the effects of this fall for the next few days.

“Man,” Justin whistles, low and long, “You are not having a good day. Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m fine,” He repeats himself, mostly for Tessa’s benefit. She’s gone so pale she could pass for a ghost.

“That’s two stumbles today. Is it your concussion acting up?” Tessa cups his face carefully in her hand and it would be romantic if she weren’t tilting his head this way and that to get a good look at him. “The doctor said you could have symptoms for weeks and you _have_ been acting a little unusual today. Do you have a headache? Are you seeing bright lights? Dizziness? Confusion?”

“I’m fine, Virtch,” He covers her mouth with his hand before she can really get worked up, laughing when she retaliates by nipping at his palm - clamoring back to his feet and righting the chair. Hopefully she doesn’t think the flirting has only been the result of a four-week old head injury, although he could think of worse side effects to have.

“Maybe you should get some fresh air,” Justin suggests, “Go with Chiddy to return the moving truck. He’ll need someone to drive him back here afterwards, anyway.”

“That’s a good idea,” Tessa nods, “Go clear your head. But call me if you start having any symptoms.” 

It’s decided before he has a chance to say anything, Chiddy walking in and tossing him the keys and a bottle of water one after the other. But maybe some fresh air will do him some good, clearly he can’t be trusted to stay upright around Tessa today. If this is how his body is going to react to her proximity from now on, he is so fucked.

****

Scott plugs his phone into the speakers on the kitchen counter and turns on his favorite jazz playlist before tying his apron around his neck and waist and surveying the scene in front of him. The large stone bowl he purchased at the Korean market is ready and waiting by the stove-top to be heated later, the vegetables are rinsed and ready to be cooked, he’s got a massive bag of rice open, and the beef has been cut into two-inch long strips, as instructed. Hannah’s playing happily in her play-pen, the area thoroughly checked for choking hazards and stocked with plenty of toys to keep her entertained, and he’s ready to get to work.

Back in Korea Tessa had fallen in love with Bibimbap and he’d privately sworn to himself that he’d learn to make it for her birthday, and now today is the day. He’s practiced a few times, with varying degrees of success (he still owes Chiddy for the accidental food poisoning he’d subjected him to on the first attempt) and tonight he’s ready to make enough for all of their friends as a surprise for Tess.

First, he gets the rice started in Chiddy’s rice cooker, using a little less water than called for, then he mixes together soy sauce, sugar, sesame oil, rice wine, chopped scallions, minced garlic, sesame seeds, and pepper for the meat – setting it to the side to marinate for twenty minutes.

With those two items taken care of, it’s time to start on the side dishes. He has gosari, soybean sprouts, spinach, cucumbers, zucchini, and carrots, and each one has to be prepared in its own way. It’s a lot of work, but the longer he cooks the better the kitchen smells – delicious scents accompanied by sizzling and crackling sounds as he sautés and mixes and seasons each thing. His stomach grumbling almost loud enough to be heard over Louis Armstrong’s trumpet solos.

The sauce is made of a Korean red chili pepper paste called gochujang, sugar, sesame oil, and water, and Scott mixes the ingredients thoroughly before sampling a bit off the spoon to make sure it tastes right. He can’t risk any mistakes on Tessa’s birthday – no matter how much she might insist that twenty-nine isn’t worth celebrating.

She’d been insisting for weeks that she didn’t want anything for her birthday other than a nice note, but Scott couldn’t just send her a text message and leave it at that. Oh no. It’s all or nothing. She deserves to be celebrated every day – especially after all the help she’s been over the last seven months with Hannah – but today of all days she deserves for him to go all out!

“Hey, man,” Chiddy shuffles into the kitchen, his arms laden with too many grocery bags for one man to reasonably carry, “Where do you want all this stuff?”

“Jesus, Chiddy,” Scott laughs, turning down the heat on the stove, “Were you trying to dislocate your arm?”

“I wanted to limit the number of trips I had to take. Jeff’s bringing up the cake behind me and Justin has the rest of the wine.” He sets the bags down on the rarely used dining table and starts putting away the tubs of ice cream in the freezer. Pink and gold decorations spilling out of a couple of the bags as they sag to the side.

“You made sure it was chocolate?”

“Yes,” Chiddy says, the eye-roll evident in the tone of his voice even though Scott can’t see his face, “Jeff opened the lid and double-checked that it was exactly what you ordered. Chocolate on chocolate on chocolate.”

“With strawberries on top?” It’s imperative that there are strawberries. Tessa loves them, especially with chocolate, and what kind of friend would he be if he didn’t order the cake of her dreams? Although she probably would have been equally happy with a dozen assorted doughnuts set aside just for her.

"Yep. Twenty-nine – counted them myself.”

Scott breathes a sigh of relief and refocuses on making the food. “Thanks, man.”

“Anything for Tess, right?” Chiddy shrugs, sticking his nose over the stove and inhaling with no small amount of trepidation, “How’s dinner coming?”

“Good, I think.” Scott retrieves the carton of eggs and starts cooking each one sunny-side up. They’ll go on top of everything when he’s done. One for each person’s bowl. Traditional recipes call for raw eggs, but he doesn’t want to risk anyone getting salmonella tonight. “I’ll be ready to assemble everything soon.”

“Jordan just texted and said she’s picked Tessa up from work and they are on their way,” Jeff announces, entering the room with the cake, Justin, wine, and a dozen pale pink balloons.

“She has no idea, right?” Scott clarifies, beginning the process of heating up the stone bowls for serving.

“Nope. Jordan told her that they were swinging by here to pick up the sweater she left on the couch after our movie night last weekend and then heading out to dinner. Tessa doesn’t suspect a thing.”

“Good. Can you guys finish setting the decorations up? I was trying to put up the banner, but Hannah had a blow-out and needed to be changed and then I had to get started on dinner or risk not finishing on time and –“

“We got it, Scott,” Justin laughs, “No worries.”

The four of them work together to finish preparing everything, and Scott’s honestly proud of what they’ve accomplished. Dinner smells delicious, practically the entire apartment is decorated with streamers and balloons and pink peonies, there’s a giant birthday banner hanging over the far side of the kitchen wall, and in the center of the table is the most beautiful birthday cake Scott’s ever seen.

(It should be, given how much he paid for it.)

They stand back, surveying their work with an immense amount of satisfaction, and the doorbell rings.

“That’ll be Matt and Trisha,” Scott tells Chiddy, gesturing for him to go get the door.

“I still can’t believe they’re dating,” Jeff huffs out a laugh, shaking his head and stealing a raspberry from the bowl of mixed fruit on the table, “She asks you out and then goes home with your teammate. Hilarious.”

“Matchmaker Moir,” Justin chimes in, sharing a looking with Jeff, “It has a nice ring to it. Too bad you haven’t had as much success with yourself.“

“I’m just glad it worked out. She’s a nice girl.” Honestly he’d been surprised when Tessa had told him the day after the date that Matt and Trisha had hit it off and had decided to try dating, but the world works in mysterious ways. Who is he to argue with God’s methods when the results are good?

“You didn’t quite explain why _you_ didn’t go home with her though,” Jeff says slyly, smirking at Justin, “Something about Tessa, was it?”

“She just wasn’t the right fit,” Scott dismisses both of them and their suspicions with a wave of his hand, checking the temperature of the stone bowls so that he can get the food assembled, “It worked out better for everyone in the end.” He’s not going to justify their gossiping by telling them what really happened. It’s none of their business, anyway, and they wouldn’t understand.

“I wonder who is,” Jeff mutters, and Justin elbows him in the ribs. It’s not subtle in the slightest, and Scott wonders just when exactly his friends decided it was okay to stop trying to hide their views on his friendship with Tessa and begin openly speculating. Despite his rather spectacular stumbles while helping Jeff move, Scott’s been doing really well at keeping his body’s impulses under control since then, thank you very much. And since Tessa hasn’t made a move either, there’s no good reason for anybody to think something’s changed.

Chiddy comes back into the kitchen with Matt and Trisha – who are holding hands and who both look, by all accounts, to be blissfully happy – as well as Nikita, Tyler, Molly, and a few of Tessa’s girl friends from the office. “Everybody’s here!”

“Awesome.” With dinner done, Scott wipes his hands off on his apron before taking it off and hanging it on the hook on the wall, then retrieves Hannah – straightening her custom _Happy Birthday, Tess!_ shirt so that it’s prominently displayed. “Tess should be here any minute.”

Jeff turns off the lights and the group assembles in the living room, away from the line of sight of the front door. Part of the appeal of a surprise party is actually getting to yell, “surprise,” and Scott can’t wait to see the look on Tessa’s face when they do.

“Hey, Scott,” Matt pulls him aside and drops his voice down to a whisper, “Real quick, I just wanted to say that I hope we’re cool. You know, with everything.” He sort of gestures towards Trisha at his side, then the general room (as if it somehow represents Tessa – which right now it kind of does), the implication clear.

“Of course,” Scott dismisses his concern, glancing at the entryway and listening closely for the sound of the front door opening, anticipation sending butterflies flying wildly inside his stomach, “Why wouldn’t we be?”

Matt breathes a sigh of relief. “Just making sure.”

“I think we all went home with the right person that night,” Trisha smiles, waving hello to Hannah, and Scott can’t help but smile, too.

“Yeah, I guess we did.”

The front door unlatches and a hush falls instantly over the room as the sound of two female voices can be heard entering the apartment.

“You can’t just walk in, Jo,” Tessa chastises, “It’s not polite.”

“This is Scott’s place,” Jordan snorts, “You do it all the time.”

“Only when he’s here.” There’s a beat, followed by, “It’s just different.”

“Believe me, we all know you’re different. But he knows I’m picking up my sweater and he said it was fine. He won’t care that we stopped by while he was out.”

“I should still text him. I haven’t heard from him all day and I’m worried.”

Scott winces at the quiet hurt in her voice, but his silence had been necessary. There’s no way he could have kept the secret if he’d spoken to her today, even over text. He’s been too nervous and excited and it would have all come pouring out of him the second she asked what he was up to tonight.

“No, you’re sad. I’m sure he’ll call you later.”

“I hope –“

“SURPRISE!” The group bursts into action as Jordan and Tessa come around the corner – Jeff switching on the lights so that she’s forced to blink rapidly a few times to adjust, her mouth falling comically open as she gapes at them. "Happy birthday to you,” They all begin to sing on cue, “Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Tessa! Happy birthday to you!” They hold out her name for a solid seven seconds, making her laugh, and then Chiddy’s voice shoots up an entire octave on the last word – making an ungodly screeching sound that has the whole group rolling.

Tessa clasps her hands to her mouth to hide the trembling there, her eyes filling with unshed tears. “You guys! You did this for me?”

“Scott organized it,” Chiddy explains, jumping forward to kiss her on the cheek and give her a big hug, “We just helped.”

Scott runs his hand through his hair and then does the same for Hannah in an attempt to avoid Tessa’s starry-eyed stare. It’s hard keeping his tears at bay when she’s blinking back her own - her joy almost too much to bear in such a large crowd of people. _Don't do this to me_ , he silently pleads, _I can't cry in front of all of our friends._

“You organized all of this?” She asks softly, letting out a choked little laugh when she notices Hannah’s t-shirt. “For me?”

“Yep!” He throws his free arm around her and pulls her in for a tight hug to prevent himself from getting overly emotional, nuzzling the top of her head when she tucks herself into his chest and running his hand up and down the silky fabric of her green and blue jacket. “Happy birthday, kiddo. We sure do love you.”

She squeezes him tightly with one arm, the other coming up to stroke Hannah’s cheek, and quietly whispers, “Thank you.”

There are a few people staring at them. Okay, _everyone_ is staring at them, and it makes Scott acutely uncomfortable so he gently extricates himself from her arms and gestures towards the kitchen. “I made Bibimbap!”

“What?” She gasps, her whole body spinning towards the kitchen so fast he’s surprised she doesn’t tip over. “You _made_ it? From scratch?”

“I told you I would learn,” He reminds her with a wink, setting Hannah back down in her play pen with a kiss before leading Tessa into the kitchen and dishing up a large bowl - handing her a set of chopsticks to complete the ensemble.

“Oh my god.” She takes a bite, letting her eyes fall closed and chewing slowly as she savors each flavor. “This tastes amazing! Marry me.”

Scott bursts out laughing and Tessa flushes crimson, nearly choking on her food as she splutters and tries to make excuses for herself. “Sure, Virtch,” He grins, ignoring her attempt to pretend she didn’t just propose to him in a moment of culinary bliss, “But only if you agree to do my laundry every week. It’s a fair trade, don’t you think?”

She clears her throat and shoots back, “You think your Bibimbap is worth my having to sort through your dirty underwear?”

“I don’t know,” He steals her chopsticks and gathers more of the food from her bowl, holding it out for her to take another bite, “Why don’t you tell me?”

Tessa accepts it, trying to continue looking skeptical, but utterly failing the instant her lips wrap around the food. She even lets out a little moan this time that Scott tries really, really hard not to let affect him. “Okay,” She sighs in defeat, “You win. I’ll trade laundry duties for a bowl of this every week.”

“Deal.” He holds out his hand and she takes it, the two of them shaking on their agreement like it’s a solemn oath, before breaking character and grinning like idiots. Hours upon hours in the kitchen and multiple trips to the Korean market all instantly made worth it by her satisfied smile and stamp of approval.

“You guys better let me try this,” Jeff shoves his way between them and grabs a bowl of his own while Justin politely starts dishing out servings to everyone else, “I might just marry Scott myself if it’s as good as Tess seems to think.”

“I’m taken now,” Scott jokes, nudging Tessa with his elbow and winking at her, “We just shook on a deal. What can you offer me that’s better than laundry?”

“Probably not the same things Tessa can offer you,” Jeff smirks, then grimaces when Justin forcibly drags him from the kitchen to go make conversation with Tyler and Molly.

“He’s an idiot,” Scott says conversationally, hoping to cover any awkwardness that might have arisen from their friend’s blatant innuendo, “I’ve seen how you do your laundry. It’s immaculate. I’d be stupid to trade for anything else.”

Tessa swallows before looking up and giving him a bright, friendly smile, and bumping his arm with hers. “That’s right. And don’t you forget it, Moir.”

The food is a big hit with everyone else, too, and Scott quickly finds himself drawn away into conversations about recipes and methods and cooking advice that he never expected to be having while Tessa mingles with the rest of her friends. Although periodically he gets distracted from food-talk by the huge smile on her face and spring in her step visible from across the room. She's like a magnet, drawing his attention from wherever she is. 

He can’t help but feel supremely satisfied with himself about how tonight is gone – especially when they sing to her again, this time complete with hand gestures and operatic embellishments (some of them might be getting slightly tipsy), and she takes a bite of her special chocolate cake. The look on her face as the flavor bursts inside her mouth is practically orgasmic.

(And he’d know.)

“You did good tonight, Scotty-boy.” Chiddy slugs him on the shoulder, serving himself a rather large helping of cake and snagging two of the strawberries to go with it. “Tess looks really happy.”

“She does, doesn’t she?” Scott smirks, sucking a bit of frosting off the tip of his thumb. And she hasn’t even seen the custom box of “Tessa Doughnuts” he had specially made for her by Von Doughnuts that he has hiding in the pantry as a gift for later.

(Of course he bought her doughnuts, too, how could he not?)

“It’s nice to see how far you two have come since that whole awkward business in Korea,” Chiddy says around a mouthful of chocolate, “I was worried there for a second. What did you end up saying to her that night you rushed over there?”

Scott nearly chokes on his own piece of cake and Chiddy has to set his down so that he can pound his back and help him clear his airways. “I, uh,” Scott splutters, coughing a few times to clear his throat, “I just apologized.”

“Oh, good. I knew there was no way Tess would have gone along with your reciprocation plan.” Chiddy laughs and Scott awkwardly joins in, hoping he doesn’t look as guilty as he feels. _Yeah, totally implausible._ Thank god for the small mercies of technology when Chiddy’s phone pings with an incoming message.

“Attention, everyone! Tessa has an announcement.” Jordan holds up her hands to get them all to be quiet, and Scott sets his empty plate aside to focus on whatever she’s about to say. Intrigued by the way she’s grinning proudly at her sister, who blushes bright red and mouths _not right now!_ A command Jordan easily ignores. “It’s pretty big. Huge, really. Gargantuan news.”

"Jordan,” Tessa groans, refusing to look at any of them and instead scrunching up her face at her sister like she’s a kid again protesting being teased, “Now isn’t the time.”

“It’s the perfect time,” Jordan insists, gesturing to all of their friends, “Come on, Tess. Tell them! It’s exciting! They’ll want to know.”

“Know what?” Chiddy asks eagerly, slipping his phone back in his pocket. (Scott knows he was texting Liz again. He had that _look_ on his face.)

Tessa sighs and, with one last exasperated please-don’t-make-me-do-this look at Jordan, says, “I got my acceptance letters today for law school.”

“Letters _plural_?” Jeff grins, “That sounds promising.”

“It is. Um,” She glances at him, and Scott smiles and nods encouragingly, not understanding why she seems so hesitant to bask in the glory of her accomplishment. If it had been him getting into even one of his dream schools, he’d have been shouting it from the rooftops. God knows he did enough of that when he was drafted to the Leafs. “I got accepted at everywhere I applied, but there’s only five I’m really considering.”

“That’s amazing, Tess. I knew you could do it!” Scott makes his way to her side and squeezes her forearm, rubbing lightly with his thumb in what he hopes is an encouraging gesture. She really should be proud of herself – personally he’s practically busting at the seams with pride. “Which ones?”

She looks at him again and takes a deep breath and then blurts the names out practically all at once, one stacked on top of the other, “The University of Toronto, Osgoode Hall, UBC, Harvard, and Yale.”

The room erupts into cheers and whistles as people congratulate her on such an amazing line-up of prestigious schools, and Scott’s right there with them – clapping louder than anyone and grinning like the proudest man on the planet - until it hits him.

Other than the first two schools mentioned, the others are far away. Not just far, but _really_ far. Like only visiting home for holidays far.

The lingering sweet taste of chocolate goes sour in his mouth.

All these months – years, really – that he’s known Tessa would attend law school someday, he’d never considered where. Well, he had, but he’d just assumed it would be in Toronto. Maybe Queen’s, her alma mater, at worst (Kingston’s a bit of a drive, but still doable). He’d never anticipated that she might consider options outside of Ontario. Outside of the _country_. What is he supposed to do if she leaves him? Law school isn’t a short thing, it takes _years_. He can’t even begin to comprehend what years without her would look like. And what if she moves away to Vancouver or Boston and decides to stay? 

Jeff moving out of the apartment was tough because it was a transition, but ultimately most of Scott’s whining had been melodramatic and played up for laughs. Tessa moving away would be like losing his right arm and one of his lungs and maybe a kidney or two all at once. Nothing funny about it.

Hannah starts to cry from inside her play pen, probably because there are suddenly too many people blocking her view of her dad, and Scott rushes over and scoops her up in his arms, grateful for the distraction. Maybe, somehow, she understands that Tessa might be leaving them and is upset about it, too.

(It’s impossible – she’s only eleven months old, after all - but given how excited everyone else looks, none of them behaving as if their world is caving in, it’s comforting to think at least his daughter might share his trepidation-slash-dread at this new development.)

“Holy shit, Tess,” Jeff half-laughs, half-whistles, “That’s really amazing. Do you know which one you want to choose yet?”

“I don’t know,” She says slowly, still watching Scott like she’s waiting for him to say something or tell her what to do, but he resolutely keeps a proud smile on his face – refusing to reveal just how much this feels like an quickly unfolding nightmare. He’s _happy_ for her, goddammit! “It’s a tough decision because the Allard School of Law at UBC is really great. It has a reputation for innovative research and inspiring teachers and the programs all look fascinating. I really like everything I’ve read about it so far.” 

“And Vancouver is a beautiful city,” Chiddy adds encouragingly, “I just got back from a business trip there with my coworker and I fell in love with it. I think you’d really like it, Tess.”

 _Who’s side is he on here?_ Scott mentally shoots daggers at his friend for his betrayal. _And pretending he was with his coworker for work as if they don’t all know he and Liz were out visiting her parents on a decidedly non-work related weekend getaway? Ha!_ He’ll get him back for this. Itching powder in his boxers or rearranging his kitchen cupboard or something. Friends don’t encourage friends to move four thousand kilometers away.

“UBC is where I went,” Tessa’s office friend Heather pipes up, holding up her glass of wine in salute to Tess, “It was amazing and I really learned a lot. I think it would be the perfect fit for you.”

“We know a few people who went there, actually,” Jeannie nods, clinking her glass against her girlfriend’s in solidarity, “We’ve never met anybody who didn’t have wonderful things to say about both the place and the program. I can picture you thriving in Vancouver.”

“I think she should go to Yale,” Jordan chimes in, pouring another healthy glass of red for herself and stealing one of the last strawberries off of the cake, “That’s where I went and my time there was invaluable. Not to mention it’s the top law school in the United States. It’s hard to beat that.”

“Where is Yale, exactly?” Jeff shares a look with Chiddy that has his smile fading away and they both glance over at him in obvious concern, but Scott can’t be bothered to care what they’re thinking. This is all too much too handle at once.

“Connecticut,” Scott answers, somewhat in a daze. He remembers vividly how much Tessa complained about being separated from her sister for so long. The long hours Skyping each other, the pages and pages of texts, and still it couldn’t totally fill the void left behind.

Is that what his future will be like?

"It’s far,” Jordan says with that tone of voice that only older siblings have – the one that says they possess infinitely more knowledge than you do. Scott’s used to hearing it from his brothers quite frequently. “But I think it can be good to get experience outside of your comfort zone. It helps you grow as a person. Plus you get to make all sorts of new and interesting friends from different backgrounds.”

“Harvard is in Boston, though, you can’t beat Boston in the fall,” Molly says dreamily, giving credence to the rumors that Tyler might be traded this summer. A prospect nobody on the team is looking forward to except, apparently, his wife.

“And live in the hometown of the Bruins?” Matt grimaces, good-naturedly elbowing Tyler in the ribs, and all of the Leafs players in the room boo in harmony. The Red Wings might be their official rivals, but they hold no love for the boys in black and gold.

“Probably not Boston,” Tessa agrees with a laugh, “I know where my hockey loyalties lie.” 

“Here, here!” Nikita cheers, slinging his arm around her and knocking his beer glass against her white wine – nearly spilling it on her dress. Normally that would get a rise out of him, but Scott can’t be bothered to care about Nikita’s foolish flirting when much, much more serious problems are at hand.

“But you haven’t decided for sure?” He asks, working hard to keep his voice level, although it’s still quieter than the rest, and Tessa glances at him while running her index finger around the rim of her glass.

“No…” She pauses, the two of them trying to read each other’s faces and failing, “There are a lot of things to consider.”

“In the end you have to pick the best school for you, Tess,” Jordan says firmly, also looking at Scott, but with a frown. As if he’s the roadblock in Tessa’s way to success – something he never, ever wants to be.

“That’s right,” He swallows around the lump in his throat and kisses Hannah’s forehead to give himself time to regain his composure, “Those are amazing options, but you have to choose which one will give you the life you want.”

“Yeah,” Tessa says softly, looking at Hannah and then back at him, before getting pulled away by Heather and Jeannie and Chiddy to discuss Vancouver a bit more.

It’s not a conversation Scott wants to be a part of or risk overhearing (he’s not sure his heart could take it right now), so he meanders over to the kitchen – placing Hannah in her high chair and getting her a small piece of cake to mash, never mind the inevitable mess, before getting to work doing the dishes.

Cleaning is methodical. Easy and repetitive and a good chore for taking his mind off of thoughts he’d rather not be thinking right now. Thoughts like _I’m a really shitty friend for being upset when I should be happy_.

Because he really should be happy. Hell, he _is_ happy. Joyous, even, at the news that she got into so many great schools. It’s been her dream for such a long time and he feels honored to have a front row seat for watching it come true. But the selfish part of him, the one he’s tried not to let Tessa see as much as they’ve gotten older but probably fails frequently to hide, can’t help but be dismayed at the thought of her moving away – even if it’s what’s best for her.

“Hey.” A soft hand lands on his arm while he’s halfway through scrubbing a skillet, carefully avoiding the soap bubbles reaching up to his wrists, and Scott turns to find Tessa, brow furrowed in concern. “Are you alright?”

“I’m great, Virtch!” He forces himself to smile cheerfully at her, shaking off his dark cloud so that she that won’t know what he’s thinking. “I’m really happy for you.”

“You are?”

“Of course! Five schools?” He whistles, “That’s amazing. I mean, I knew you could do it, but wow – Harvard? _Yale_? Those are some impressive institutions knocking at your door. Everybody wants to be in the Tessa Virtue business, and I don’t blame them.”

“Yeah,” She blushes, biting her lip to hide her smile, “I don’t think any of it felt real until I was holding the envelopes in my hands, you know? Suddenly seeing the logos printed on bright white paper like that and addressed to me… I don’t know, suddenly it all became my reality in one fell swoop.”

“You deserve it, kiddo.” He nudges her with his elbow, careful not to get any soap on her or her clothes. “You deserve every good thing.” 

“So do you,” She replies, but Scott shrugs her off with a self-deprecating laugh.

“Nah, I’m a mess who stumbled into most of the good things in my life by accident. But you? Nobody works harder than you. You’ve earned this.” He digs in a little harder at a stubborn piece of god knows what stuck between the prongs of a fork, even though the dishwasher could probably take care of it for him.

“That’s not true,” Tessa insists, stepping up beside him and beginning to load the already rinsed dishes into the dishwasher, despite Scott’s protests that it’s her birthday and she shouldn't be working. “Nobody pursues goals with more determination that you do. I’ve always admired that about you. When we skated together you were the one who kept me committed to getting up before dawn to practice every day, and once you’d decided to focus on hockey you were unstoppable. And with fatherhood? That might be the most impressive thing of all. Nobody could be a better dad than you and not many men would have tried. You’re so passionate and driven – I’ve always tried to imitate that.”

“And I’ve tried to imitate your level-headedness and all-around unbelievably genuine goodness and kind heart, but that’s never worked,” He chuckles, bumping her shoulder and letting out an over-dramatic sigh, “I’m way too hot-headed, T.”

“Oh stop.” She swats his shoulder with the dish towel and he laughs. “I like that about you. Passion is a good thing.”

She goes quiet and he looks over to find her staring down at the cloth, nervousness radiating off her in waves. Ignoring his soapy hands, he takes hers in his and strokes the back of them with his thumbs. Putting aside his terror at the prospect of her leaving to focus on making her feel better. “You’re going to be great, Tess, whichever school you choose. And whichever one it is it will be the right one because _you_ chose it.”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t think you’ve ever made a bad choice in your life, Tessa Virtue, except maybe picking me for a best friend.” He winks and then laughs when that comment earns him the outraged noise he was after – instantly distracting her from her fear and anxiety in order to chastise him for purposely saying something he knows she hates.

“You are impossible!”

“See? You’re proving my point. One bad decision.”

“Say something nice about yourself,” She commands, “Right now.”

“Nobody washes dishes better than I do?” He suggests, flicking bubbles at her face and laughing when she has to wipe them away with the back of her hand.

“That’s the best you can do?”

“You don’t get to pick and choose my self-compliments, T,” He grins, dipping his hand back in the soapy water and giving her a bubble goatee, “Don’t criticize how I express my self-love.”

Tessa wipes the goatee away and retaliates by plopping a large dollop of bubbles on the tip of his nose. “Then don’t be so disparaging about yourself. You know I hate that.”

“I know,” He wipes them away with a laugh and pulls her into his side for a hug, “I was just proving my first point. You really haven’t ever made a bad decision.”

“I’ve made lots of bad decisions. Remember when my hair was blue for that one week back in college?”

They both cringe in unison at the memory. That had been a rough week and he may or may not have called her blueberry – a nickname that had resulted in one of their nastier bouts of the silent treatment. Although at the time he’d thought it was a better alternative than his first choice of nickname: Smurfette.

“Oh yeah… yeah, that one wasn’t great.”

“And that time I was dared to flash my breasts at the boys’ soccer team and I did it?” She self-consciously folds her arms over her chest at that one, and Scott gawks at her.

“Yeah – wait, what? When was that?” If she’d ever done that, he’s pretty sure he would have known about it. And probably had a conniption.

Tessa chuckles awkwardly and holds herself tighter, somewhat ruining the effect she’s going for by pushing her breasts together and enhancing the cleavage her blue silk dress already gives her (not that he’s paying attention). “I didn’t tell you about that?”

“Uh, no. That I would remember.”

“In my defense, I had just finished my first semester’s finals at Queen’s and I was very, very drunk.”

"Tessa Virtue,” He grins, slow and wide like the Cheshire cat, “You’re a closet exhibitionist.”

“Hardly,” She scoffs, rolling her eyes and going back to finishing loading the dishwasher, “Again, I claim liquor as the instigating factor here.”

“What other wild college girl stories haven’t you told me?” He moves in closer, right up into her personal space, and props his chin on his fist while waiting eagerly for information. Who would have thought she’d been keeping all these juicy secrets from him all this time and he’d had no idea.

She pretends to zip her lips shut and throw away the key. “A lady never tells.”

“Skinny-dipping?” He asks, a bit too eagerly, feeling acutely disappointed when she shakes her head.

“Nope, didn’t do that.”

"Never?”

“No way.”

“Well we’ll just have to add that to our to-do list this summer. We’ll go up to your family’s cabin on Lake Huron and you can give it a whirl.” It’s the perfect opportunity and an important rite of passage that he insists she experience. Everyone should try skinny-dipping at least once, in his expert opinion.

Tessa hesitates with one hand holding a dripping plate and the other buried in bubbles, “… You want me to plan a weekend away with you to go skinny dipping?”

Oops.

He hadn’t been thinking about it like that. Honestly he hadn’t. But when _she_ says it it sounds like he was trying to make it a _thing_. Which he wasn’t because they already had their thing and all evidence points to it not happening again. “Not like that. My pants will stay on.”

“Nuh uh. No way, mister.” She wags a finger at him, sending droplets of water flying across his shirt. “I am not stripping naked while you sit on the beach fully clothed and watch. If I’m going in, you’re going in with me.”

He is not opposed to that idea. And, well, if she _insists_ they get naked together, then as her friend he really can’t refuse. It just wouldn’t be polite. “Okay, so should we put this on the calendar now, then, or -?”

“Later,” She laughs, eyes sparkling, “We can compare summer calendars and coordinate the weekend that works best.”

“Deal.”

Eventually the party winds down, seeing as it’s a Thursday night and most of their friends aren’t hockey players currently enjoying their off-season, and Scott worries for a moment when Jordan leaves that Tessa will go with her – his heart plummeting down to his feet before soaring high above his head when she decides to stay instead. Given her bombshell news tonight, he’s not quite ready to say goodbye, and it seems she isn’t, either.

Chiddy is the last to go, making up some excuse as he pops a breath mint and checks his hair in the mirror about going in to work to finish up some leftover assignments. It’s obviously a piss-poor excuse to hide the fact that he’s really going to spend the night at Liz’s apartment. Honestly, the two of them need to just admit that their relationship isn’t some fling and they’re in love before it drives everyone crazy. It’s been months!

Scott the chocolate crumbs off of Hannah and puts her to bed with warm milk and three of her favorite bedtime stories, then comes back out to find Tessa curled up on the couch - pleasantly tipsy and watching old black and white _I Love Lucy_ reruns on some cable channel Scott didn’t even know he had. Laughing along with the laugh-track and grinning at Lucy’s antics. It’s adorable.

He drops down beside her and she immediately leaves the comfort of the armrest to curl into his side and use his body for support instead, so he grabs the nearby throw blanket and drapes it over her. Making sure it covers her bare shoulders where he can see goosebumps popping up from the nighttime chill. Where her jacket ended up, he doesn't know.

"Can I stay here tonight?” She asks, burrowing in closer and bringing her knees up to prop against his thigh, practically curling herself into his lap. Not that he minds. It’s comforting to have her so close right now. Especially if this will be one of the last times they get to be like this before she moves away.

 _Don’t think like that, Moir. She’s going to law school, not dying._

"You can stay here every night, kiddo, you know that.” He presses a kiss to the top of her head and Tessa hums contentedly.

“Mmm. Thank you.”

On the TV Lucy starts shoving chocolates into her mouth as fast as she possibly can, the conveyor belt moving too fast for her to handle, and Tessa laughs. She must have seen this show a million times, yet it never fails to garner the same reaction, and Scott feels a burst of affection for her. Squeezing his arm around her a little tighter and resting his head on top of hers.

“Was your birthday everything you could have wanted?”

“Yes.” She leans back just enough to smile up at him, her eyes almost going cross-eyed from their close proximity. “It was a wonderful surprise. Thank you, again. And thank you for the doughnuts! I still can’t believe you got them to put macarons in the center.”

Her face takes on a dreamy, faraway look, and Scott laughs. “It was my pleasure, Virtch. I think that idea might just catch on. We’ll call them _doughnaroons._ ” He writes his hand across the air in front of them like he’s making an invisible sign, and Tessa giggles.

“Or Macanuts?”

“Too close to macadamia nuts.” Scott shakes his head. “That would just be confusing.”

“I guess you’re right,” She sighs, trying not to smile, “Doughnaroons it is.”

He dances his fingers across her ribcage, grinning when she laughs and wriggles against him to make him stop, and then they sort of end up just _gazing_ at each other for a minute or two, which should be awkward, but somehow isn’t. For him it’s a chance to memorize her face – the freckles on the bridge of her nose, the darker rims around the iris of her gorgeous green eyes, the rosy hue of her lips, the tiny, tiny gap at the top of her two front teeth – even though he’s had every feature committed to memory since he was a boy. A chance to wonder how it might change over the course of the next few years while she’s gone.

“There is one thing, though,” She says eventually, her cheeks turning pink (he memorizes that, too), even as her eyebrows crinkle in that determined sort of way, “That I wanted tonight and didn’t get.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” It’s pretty late to go out tonight, but if there’s something she wants, he’ll go get it for her. No questions asked. Maybe hot chocolate from that fancy place on Yong street. She always seems to get a craving for that in the middle of the night.

“I seem to remember us having a conversation about having sex, and then that not actually happening.” She fiddles with the buttons on his plaid shirt, slipping one of them out of its hole, taking him completely by surprise and sending his head spinning.

 _I guess she’s craving a different kind of hot chocolate._ A slow smirk spreads across his face as his brain catches up to her words. So their agreement _wasn’t_ restricted to just that night. Good to know.

“Well,” He drawls, teasing her, “It sort of happened.”

"It almost happened,” She corrects him, making a small but critical change to his choice of words, and undoing another button. All the while looking as innocent as a lamb, “But it didn’t. So the way I see it, we still get to have our one time.”

“Is that right?” He grins and slips his hand underneath the blanket to stroke the bare skin of her shoulder, purposely sliding the thin strap of her dress down her arm so that it isn’t in the way when he trails his fingers across her collarbone.

“Yep,” She shrugs, unintentionally helping him along by making his fingers dip lower towards the top of her breast, “If you still want to, that is.”

“Do _you_ want to?” _Please say yes, please say yes, please say yes._ She’s being pretty obvious, but he still wants to hear her say it out loud. This will be the first time she’s instigated one of their encounters, and he is _not_ taking that for granted.

She pops another button. “Yes.”

_Thank god._

“Good. I do, too.” He shifts slightly towards her so that it’s easier to look her in the eye when he undoes the bow at her waist to loosen her dress and teasingly asks, “It’s not in your bed though, doesn’t that violate our agreement?”

She pretends to think about if for a moment, tapping her index finger against her mouth, before shrugging. “I think we can make a few amendments.”

“Oh phew.” He dramatically pretends to wipe sweat off his forehead, earning a laugh that fills his heart with sunshine. “That’s a relief. I really didn’t want to drive all the way to your townhouse this late at night and try to explain all this to Jordan. What did you end up telling her by the way?”

Tessa shrugs again and undoes the last few buttons on his shirt, sliding her hands underneath to stroke his chest and push the fabric to the side at the same time. “I told her we’d been fighting that night in my room and that I was trying to keep it a secret from her by pretending that we weren’t.”

“And she believed that?” He shivers when she flicks his nipple, a bolt of anticipation running up his spine when Tessa smirks at his response and does it again.

“Not at all,” She laughs, “She knows me too well.”

“So she knows that we… what we… she knows about the sex pact?” For lack of a better term. The idea of Jordan knowing what they’ve been up to is excruciatingly awkward. If Jeff and Chiddy wouldn’t be able to understand it, than Jordan _definitely_ couldn’t.

“Ugh,” Tessa groans, removing her hands from their slow exploration so that she can cover her face instead, “Don’t call it a sex pact. That sounds so weird.”

“Sorry. I just don’t know what else to call it.”

They’ve already established that it isn’t just fucking, but its built-in time limit implies that it isn’t supposed to be serious. And she nixed the friends with benefits idea. So if it’s a one-time casual thing that somehow both is and isn’t more significant than a friendly fuck, then what exactly is it? A pact is defined as a formal agreement, and they pinky-swore and everything.

“A mutually beneficial limited time offer stress relieving activity?” She suggests, giving him a teasing, tongue-touched smile, and Scott snorts.

“Yeah, because that sounds great.”

“Whatever,” She waves him off with a laugh, “The point is no – I didn’t explain our deal. She knows about Pyeongchang and the other thing, but this seemed too hard to explain so when she asked if we were together now, I said no, of course not, we were just experimenting.”

“That doesn’t sound much better.” Scott scrunches up his face. He can only imagine what Jordan must think of him if _that’s_ the explanation Tessa’s given her. No wonder she was so hostile after he got back from Korea. Frankly, he’s shocked Kevin and Casey haven’t shown up to kick his ass six ways from Sunday.

Tessa laughs at his funny face and brushes her hand across it to set it right again. “It’s better than saying we agreed to have sex one time to get it out of our systems. She’d never believe that it was a one-time thing. Not between us.”

“But she believes experimenting is fine and dandy?” Somehow he doubts that.

“Well, no. She thinks we’re both insane and she's worried about me, but I know what I'm doing.” It’s Tessa’s turn to pull a face, and Scott laughs and reaches out to fix it for her like she did him. “She just doesn’t understand. You and I aren’t like that. Because you’re, you know, the way you are and I’m not – we’re only friends.”

That brings him up short. “What do you mean I’m the way I am?”

“You know,” She gestures vaguely in his general direction, heavy emphasis on his crotch area, “You’re not exactly monogamous.”

He catches her hand and puts it back in her lap. “That’s not true!”

She snorts and looks at him with blatant skepticism written all over her face. “Yes it is. How many women have you slept with in the past month? Six months? Year?”

For some reason, he can feel himself getting angry. He knows what his reputation is, but he’s given her no evidence or reason to think that he’s been that way since just after Hannah arrived. It doesn’t feel like a very fair accusation for her to be branding him with. “In the past six months? Um, let’s see - you. End of list.”

"What?” Her smirk falls, replaced by disbelief.

“The last time I did anything with anybody besides you was Halloween.”

“Oh…” She starts fiddling with the rings on her left middle finger. “I just assumed…”

“You assumed I was still sleeping around?” Yep, he’s definitely angry. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knows it’s not fair to be mad, but he can’t help it. He’s… hurt. Hurt that she would think he’d sleep with her, for lack of a better term to describe exactly what they’ve been doing, and turn around and go hook up with someone else the next day. For fuck’s sake, he’d only gone out with Trisha because he thought it was what Tessa would want!

“Well, I kind of figured, yeah.” She trades her rings for toying with the fringe on the throw blanket, sitting back to put some space between them. “I know you were committed and monogamous when you had serious girlfriends, but ever since Cassandra you’ve been very… free with your affection. Can you blame me for assuming nothing had changed?”

"Except everything changed. I have a kid now. I told you back on Halloween that I was swearing off of casual sex.”

“Yeah, but in Pyeongchang you said –“ She seals her lips shut tight and scoots backwards even further away from him, until no part of their bodies is touching anymore, looking like she’s revealed too much and is seconds away from bolting out the door.

“What? What did I say?” There’s a growing knot in his stomach that tells him it can’t be anything good.

“Nothing.” She shakes her head, grabbing a nearby accent pillow and holding it in front of herself like a shield, burying her mouth into the top of it.

“Did I say something stupid while I was drunk?” He twists even further so that he can face her directly, leaning forward and refusing to break eye contact. “You have to tell me, Tess.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

 _Yeah right_ , he snorts, _everything about her body language right now is screaming that this matters_. “Except that it clearly does. What did I say?”

“You said –“ She starts, pressing her lips together and fumbling for the right words, “After we – after I had… you know – you said, ‘That was so much better than hooking up with that other girl.’”

_Shit._

He’s a dumbass. The biggest dumbass of the highest order. King Dumbass.

“I’m a dumbass,” He says bluntly, giving voice to his thoughts, and Tessa chuckles awkwardly, pulling one of the strings from the blanket loose and rolling it between her fingers. It was months ago, but suddenly it’s imperative that she understand exactly what he’d meant by that asinine comment. “No, I am. Look, that night at the party at Canada House I got talking with one of the athletes. I think she was a skier, I don’t remember. Anyway, she made it pretty clear that we could hook up, if I wanted, and I thought winning gold was a pretty good excuse for breaking my celibacy rule, but then I came back to the hotel to check on Hannah and you were there and – and Tess, there’s no comparison. I mean, I certainly didn’t plan on what happened happening. I didn’t expect it in a million years. But as soon as it became an option it was the only thing I wanted. _You_ were the only thing I wanted. What I said was stupid and insensitive, but I was, in an ass-backwards way, trying to pay you a compliment.”

She goes incredibly still, letting the string fall to the floor. “Oh.”

“Is that why you left?” God, that makes so much sense now. No wonder she didn’t stick around until morning – he wouldn’t have, either, had their positions been reversed.

“I thought I was just, I don’t know, convenient.” She pulls the pillow in close again, hugging it tightly to her chest. “It made me feel cheap, Scott. I was hurt and angry, and then mad at myself for being hurt and angry because I know who you are so I shouldn’t have expected anything less.”

“Wow.” Okay, yes he was an asshole, but that is categorically unfair. He shoots up off the couch and walks towards the glass wall overlooking Lake Ontario, running a hand repeatedly through his already messy hair. “That’s a great picture you’ve painted of me, Tessa. Use ‘em and lose ‘em Scott Moir – is that how you see me?”

“No!” She untangles herself from the blanket and tosses away the pillow before rushing to his side. “No, that’s not what I meant. I don’t see you that way at all. I just meant that you like having casual sex and you and I, well we obviously aren’t together, and you said that thing about another girl, so I assumed that I was another casual hook-up and that hurt.”

Never in his life has his own reputation hurt so much. _Fuck past Scott for being such a fucking dumbass and not considering the consequences of what he was doing_.

He sighs and reaches out for her hand, lacing their fingers together – tearing his eyes away from the dark horizon to look at her instead. “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings, Tess. It was never my intention to make you feel cheap or used or _convenient_. God, even the thought of you feeling that way, and because of me no less, makes me sick.”

“It’s okay. I mean, it’s not,” She chuckles lightly, and he tries to smile, “But I’ve forgiven you.”

“I can’t believe I thought you were mad because I hadn’t reciprocated.” He snorts, mortification setting in at the memory of just how insistent he’d been, both with Chiddy and with her, that he knew exactly what went wrong and how to fix it. “I’m a fucking idiot.”

“You really thought that?”

“Yes!”

"I thought you were making up some sort of excuse to save face or protect your reputation or something. Or,” She blushes, “Because you just wanted to do it. I didn’t realize you didn’t remember what you’d said.”

“I did want to do it,” He quickly reassures her (still does, but that’s not important right now), “But if I had known you felt like that I would have marched over to your place and camped out apologizing until I was blue in the face.”

“To match your jersey?” She teases, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah, that’s it.” He laughs, letting her.

“You _really_ haven’t had sex since Halloween?” She peers up at him again, squinting suspiciously, and he pokes her in the ribs.

“ _Tes-sa_ ,” He groans, dragging out her name and breaking up the two syllables so that she knows how much she’s killing him here, “Seriously?”

“I’m just asking!”

“No, I haven’t. Trisha was my first date since then, too, and you know exactly how that turned out.”

Her lips form a perfect O as she blinks owlishly at her own reflection in the glass. “Wow.”

It seems like a long-shot now, even though they’re both still in the early stages of undressing, but he has to ask, “Does that mean sex is more or less likely to still happen tonight?”

“More.” Her answer is immediate, followed by a blush and an embarrassed laugh at how eager she sounded. Which only makes him smile wider.

“Good.” He takes her other hand and brings both of them up to his mouth to kiss her knuckles. “Because I still want to fulfill our pinky promise. But, Tessa?”

“Hmm?” Her voice is soft, her gaze fixated on his lips, and he kisses the back of her hands again before flipping them over to kiss her palms, too.

“When we have sex tonight, I need you to know without a doubt that it’s not because you’re easy or convenient.” He finds her eyes with his and holds them steady, speaking each word with slow deliberation. “It’s because I want you, _specifically,_ and no one else.”

Her lips smash against his with enough force to push him back against the glass and make it rattle, and he starts laughing into her mouth – barely able to keep up with her. “Slow down, woman!”

“You need to speed up!” She shoots back, tugging his belt out of his pants and dropping it to the floor with so much sass he’s instantly half-hard. Shoving his shirt off and sending it in the same direction. “You wanted to finish what we started so come on. No more talking.” She buries her hands in his hair and pulls his head down so that she can kiss him again, and Scott lets himself get lost in her.

She tastes amazing. Like wine and strawberries and chocolate all together – which, coincidentally, are three things he associates with Tessa anyway, so it seems perfectly fitting – and he can’t get enough of it. He’s never had much of a sweet tooth, but he’s sweet on her.

(He’s pleased with the play on words, especially given how little blood is in his head right now, but that thought is way too cheesy to say out loud.)

“Technically,” He mumbles after a few blissful minutes - during which he ended up lifting her onto the kitchen counter so that neither of them has to crane their necks so much – his words muffled by the way Tessa tugs at his bottom lip with her teeth, “ _You_ brought up wanting to finish what we started. Just,” He hisses when she trades his lip for the spot at the base of his throat that makes his knees weak, licking the triangle of freckles he knows he has there, “For the record. I was trying to be a gentleman about it.”

“You really want to quibble about who came onto who right now?” She hooks her ankles together behind his back and scoots to the edge of the counter so that her center is pressed right up against the front of his jeans, the heat radiating from that spot making his brain go fuzzy.

“Your Honor, I object.” He grabs her ass and grinds into her, swallowing her moans with another kiss.

“On what grounds?” She asks breathlessly, gasping when he bends down to capture her nipple with his mouth, soaking right through the silk as he sucks and licks her there. Her hands clenching his hair so tight the pleasure borders on pain and he’s a little worried she might pull some of it loose.

"Leading the witness.” He lifts her easily from the counter, grinning when she squeaks in surprise, and starts carrying her towards his bedroom. They are going to be in a bed for this, goddammit, not on his kitchen counter. And they are locking the door so that there’s absolutely no chance of interruption.

“Leading him where?” Tessa asks, happiness radiating off her in waves, and laughing when he tosses her onto his mattress – landing with a bounce.

She starts to scoot backwards, but his hands dart out to grab her ankles and he tugs her back to the edge of the mattress so that he can kiss her again.

“Into temptation.” He winks and presses his lips against hers, dragging them along her jaw and down her throat before back to her mouth again – repeating the circuit over and over until she’s a quivering mess beneath him.

She isn’t a passive partner though. One of her hands weaves itself into the hair at the base of his neck while the other trails down his spine and dips underneath his jeans to grab his ass. It’s an awkward angle, with him standing and her sitting, but it still feels good.

“I don’t think,” She gasps as he runs his fingers up the inside of her thigh, caressing the area where her skin is impossibly soft, just below where he knows she wants him, “Temptation is somewhere you can lead a witness. Objection overruled.”

“Well, then where do you want to lead him?” He stands back up and Tessa seems to ponder his question for a moment, before climbing off the bed to stand in front of him and slipping her straps off of her shoulders – sending her blue dress falling to the floor to land in a pool at her feet.

He’s rendered completely speechless. He’d suspected she wasn’t wearing a bra, just from the way the dress was designed, but actually getting confirmation of that suspicion seems to have knocked the wind right out of him. All night she’s been hanging out in nothing but that thin dress and a pair of sheer lacy matching blue underwear and he’d had no idea.

Which is probably a good thing, because if he had known he definitely would have burned the Bibimbap.

“Into bed, for a start,” She says, reaching for a hand that he happily lets her take, even though he no longer has any idea what she’s talking about. He lost track of the conversation the second her breasts came into view and he has a very strong feeling that he won’t be picking it back up again. Not when there are better things for his mouth to be doing.

All his life he’s been an ass man. Ever since puberty kicked in and he started noticing girls in a sexual way. But when it comes to Tessa he’s rapidly discovering that he’s an _everything_ man, and he can’t wait to prove it to her.

Scott makes quick work of his pants, kicking them somewhere to the side the second he has them off, and watches as Tessa sweeps the comforter to the foot of the bed before tugging him after her onto the mattress.

The second they’re both on the bed he playfully pushes her shoulder so that she falls onto her back in a heap on top of the pillows, and Tessa laughs. “What was that for?”

“So I can do this.” He straddles her thighs and dives in, wrapping his lips around one of her nipples while masterfully stroking the other one so that it’s not neglected, shooting her a wicked smirk when she tries to buck her hips in response and can’t. “Stop being so impatient.”

“I can’t help it!” She moans, struggling and failing to find relief when he presses her nipple to the roof of his mouth with his tongue. “The past few weeks have felt like overly-extended foreplay. I’ve been on edge ever since the night of the concert.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I thought I was being pretty obvious at Jeff’s when we were helping him move in. Do you think I massage all my friend’s asses?”

“Chiddy’s, maybe,” She jokes, and he releases her breasts so that he can sit up and tickle her ribs instead. Equally amused and aroused by the way she writhes underneath him, enraptured by how different it is tickling her while she’s naked. (It’s so much more fun.) “Stop! Stop.” She wheezes, managing to roll over onto her stomach and tucking her arms up against her sides for protection.

“Should I have issued a formal notice of my desires, instead?” He leans down to pepper kisses down her spine, pressing his mouth against each of her ribs to make up for the torture he’d just inflicted. “Dear Tess, you’re super hot and I want to fuck you. Sincerely, Scott.”

“That’s not,” Her breath hitches when he licks across her lower back, right above the waistline of her underwear, “Not the way I would have worded it.”

"What would you have said?” It’s time the lace came off. He’s tempted to see if he can rip it away (it’s a fantasy of his), but it looks kind of expensive so he tugs it down her legs instead – tossing it over his shoulder without a single care for where it lands.

An idea strikes him, a chance for some reciprocation of a different kind, and he snatches the bottle of lotion off his nightstand and squirts a healthy amount in his hands – rubbing them together to warm them up before placing them on her shoulders and beginning to give her a massage.

She tries to roll over, clearly surprised, but he stops her with a kiss on her cheek. “Let me do this for you. Consider it part of your birthday present. What would your notice have said?”

Tessa nods and lays down again, relaxing under his ministrations. “Dear Scott,” She lets out a groan as he works out a knot in her shoulder, “I can’t stop thinking about our night together and, if you are willing, I would very much like to see where it would have ended up if we hadn’t been interrupted. Best wishes, Tessa.”

“Best wishes?” He snorts, moving to her lower back and pressing his thumbs into the dimples at the base of her spine to see if they fit.

“Sincerely?” She tosses back, wiggling a little to encourage him to continue. “That feels so good, keep going.”

He takes a break from her back to massage down her arms and the palms of her hands, before focusing on her back again - starting at her neck and working all the way back down. “Yours is so formal. Mine was much more to the point.” He smirks at a certain memory, and scoots further down her legs, his hands hovering above their intended destination. “Do you want me to do your ass?”

Tessa makes a ridiculous choking sound as she lurches up and around – twisting herself like a corkscrew so that she can face him, even though he still has her pinned. “Excuse me?”

“Or should I skip to the legs?” He finishes repeating her words from January with a wicked grin, watching with unfettered delight at the crimson stain spreading from her cheeks all the way down her chest.

“It sounds so sexual when you say it.”

“News flash, Virtch,” He laughs, “It sounded sexual when you said it, too.”

“No it didn’t!” She protests, folding her arms over her chest and somehow managing to look scolding even spread out naked on his sheets like she is. “It was an innocent question. Gluteal massages can feel really good when you’re sore.”

“’Do you want me to do your ass’ could never be innocent, I don’t care what context. I was just trying to be a good friend by not pointing it out at the time. And calling it a gluteal massage doesn’t help.”

“You’re such a boy.”

“Guilty as charged.” He wiggles his hips a little to prove his point, his laughter getting cut off when she grabs him by the waistband of his boxers and practically makes him fall on top of her – capturing his lips in a sloppy kiss.

“Why don’t you prove it?” She slides one of her legs up his, the skin on skin contact sending electrical pulses all over his body, and hooks it around his waist – using the leverage to finally buck her hips into his and grind against him.

He collapses against her with a huff and grabs that leg, sliding his hand down from her knee to her foot to hold it in place behind him as he rolls his hips into hers, the two of them moaning at being so close to where they want to be.

His mouth finds hers again, and it’s like they’re both teenagers getting hot and heavy for the first time. Grinding against each other while making out. The only difference is that if they _were_ teenagers he would have blown his load by now and slunked away in embarrassment. Thank god for being thirty and a bit more in control of himself.

Scott shoves his hand underneath her to cup her ass, using it to apply added pressure and angle her hips better, and tears his mouth away to find her nipples again. Alternating between both of them as he nips, sucks, and licks.

“Fuck, Scott,” She gasps, the sound shooting straight to his rock hard dick, “I love –“ He bites her nipple and she whimpers, “- I love it when you do that.”

“Yeah?” He releases her with a pop and blows cool air over the wet spot, making her shiver and keen.

“Condom.” She pushes on his shoulder. “We need a condom.”

He shakes his head and gets back to work, slipping his hand around from her ass to her clit, stroking her with small, careful circles that have her writhing underneath him again. “Want you to come first.”

She’s so beautiful like this. Naked and flushed, her body aching with want and need, arching into him because he’s the one who can satisfy her. Because she wants him to. It’s a rush unlike any other. A high he wants to chase again and again. Wants to watch her face as she comes for him – those beautiful expressions that she makes when she’s been swept away by her pleasure. He’s dreamt of nothing else for weeks.

“No, wait.” Tessa wraps her hand around his wrist at the last second (he knows, he was paying attention in eager anticipation for the moment) and pulls his hand away, laughing breathlessly at his outraged expression and kissing away his pout. “I want you to be inside me when I come the first time.”

 _Fuck_ that’s hot. Both the being inside her part and the first time part. He likes the implication there. But still… “I wanted to make you come like this first. Want you to be ready.”

“It’s not my first time, Scott,” She laughs and rolls her eyes, and he bites her collarbone – working a hickey into her skin there. Both because he can, but also to hide his reaction to her words. And to the thoughts invading his brain.

_It should be. We should have been each other’s firsts. Why weren’t we each other’s firsts!?_

They’ve shared so much of their lives with each other, so many firsts, he kind of hates that that wasn’t one of them. 

“I still don’t want to hurt you.”

“I promise, I’ve used my vibrator enough in the past few weeks - I’m plenty ready.”

And boom. He’s dead. Mark May seventeenth, twenty-eighteen down as the date of the untimely demise of one Scott Moir. Cause of death? His best friend’s casual revelation that she regularly employs the use of sex toys, and the implication that she uses them with thoughts of him.

“God, Virtch,” He groans, burying his face in the crook of her neck, “You can’t just _say_ stuff like that.”

“Why not?” She strokes his earlobe with one hand while running the other one up and down his back, and it would be soothing if he weren’t so keyed up. As it is, it just keeps him on edge – hyper aware of all the places they’re currently touching. (And _not_ touching, which is the more pressing issue.) “Would you rather hear about what I fantasized about instead?”

“Fuck.”

“I thought about your hands.” She picks up his right one and laces their fingers together, holding them both up to the light. “You have great hands, Scott. So strong and capable and veiny.”

“Veiny?” He snorts and the unexpected description. “Is that a good thing?”

“Trust me,” She nods seriously, “It’s a good thing.”

“What else?”

“Thought about your mouth. How much it makes me laugh, how handsome you are when you smile, the things it can do to my body.”

He props himself up on his elbow so that he can lean down to kiss her, stroking his tongue against hers when the kiss gets carried away. “What else?”

“Mostly thought about your dick.” Her unexpectedly blunt statement has them both laughing, and Scott pulls her onto her side so that they’re laying front to front in a sort of horizontal-naked-hug, still giggling into each other’s shoulders. “That sounded a lot sexier in my head,” She says, burying her face into his chest, and Scott gently strokes her hair.

“It was hot,” He confirms, “I just never expected to hear you say that. You’re constantly surprising me, Virtch. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“I wish I had it in me,” She mutters, grinding her hips against his, and Scott arches his eyebrow as he looks down at her, waiting for permission. She rolls her eyes. “Oh, go ahead and say it.”

He grins. “That’s what she said.”

“That’s what she meant, too.” Tessa rolls away from him and starts digging around in his nightstand. “Where are they?”

"The condoms are in the bathroom.”

“Ugh,” She huffs, slamming the drawer shut in obvious annoyance, “Why are they so far away?”

“Because I haven’t needed them lately.” He steamrolls over her, just to be ridiculous, laughing when she complains and shoves him away, and then climbs off the bed and heads towards his en-suite. “I’ll be right back.”

“Lose the boxers while you’re at it!” She calls after him, and when he looks over his shoulder he has to pause to take in the picture. Completely nude Tessa Virtue, propped up on his pillows, waiting to have sex with him. He’ll never be able to look at his bed the same way now. It’s always going to be colored with the memory of this. Of _her._

“I like this side of you, Tess,” He winks, shaking off his thoughts before they can become too serious for the occasion, “It’s sexy.”

She blushes, proving that she’s still the same Tessa as always, and he grins and retrieves a handful of condoms. (He’s optimistic, so sue him.)

A glance in the mirror has him almost laughing at himself. He looks so thoroughly fucked already. His hair is crazy and there are a few love bites scattered here and there and once his boxers have been discarded his cock stands at full attention. There’s no room for doubt about what’s been going on and he’s hit with a burst of utter giddiness. He’s going to finally have sex with Tessa!

Would a yeehaw be inappropriate?

He heads back out into the bedroom and tosses the condoms on the bed beside her, simply grinning when she looks at how many he brought with an arched eyebrow and a face that says _in your dreams, mister_.

“Are you sure I can’t convince you to let me make you come before we do this?” He asks, settling on top of her again and moaning when she widens her legs – his erection finally coming into contact with her center with no barriers in the way and nobody to interrupt them.

“Why?” She plants her feet and arches into him, his eyelids fluttering closed as her wetness spreads over his dick. “Are you having doubts about your abilities to make it happen during sex?”

“Ungh –“ He replies rather eloquently, and Tessa laughs. Which simply won’t do. He can’t be the only one going mindless here, it’s supposed to be a two-way operation. And now he has a point to prove because he definitely can make her come that way and he definitely _will._

“Condom,” She says for the third time, and Scott doesn’t waist another minute. Tearing the silver wrapper away and rolling the condom onto himself as quickly as humanly possible. Trying not to be totally obvious about the way he preens under Tessa’s obvious appraisal.

“You ready for this, T?” He positions himself over her again, reaching between them to line himself up.

“Are you?” She challenges, deliberately thrusting upwards so that his head slips inside her, and he lets out a rumbling groan from deep inside his throat.

Pressing his lips to hers, he pushes the rest of the way in – moving slowly until he’s sheathed completely inside her and then waiting while they both adjust. She’s so _hot_ and _wet_ and fucking hell _why_ have they never done this before? Whatever sex he’s had in the past pales in comparison to the utter bliss of being inside her, and he isn’t even moving yet.

Tessa gasps underneath him, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she struggles to maintain control. The irises of her green eyes have been practically eclipsed by her pupils and she scrunches her eyelids shut tight when he shifts slightly – voice hitching on a whimper. “Oh,” She murmurs, biting her bottom lip, “Scott, I didn’t expect –“

“I know, Tess.” He kisses her and begins to move, pulling almost all the way out of her before pushing back in, and then they’re both lost.

It’s a flurry of movement after that, the two of them working together in tandem to reach orgasm. He wishes he could say it’s flawless, that they move in total harmony, completely synced, but they don’t. They mess up their rhythm a few times and he gets a cramp in his thigh that requires them to pause for a second and she accidentally chokes on her own saliva when one of his thrusts takes her by surprise and starts coughing, but he loves it all the more for that.

It’s perfectly imperfect sex, made perfect because it’s with her.

“Hang on, I just – “ She arches her back a little and tries to slip her hand down to touch herself, but he swats her hand away the second he realizes what she’s trying to do, replacing it with his own. Moaning at how much wetter she feels now and swallowing her loud keen when he touches her sensitive clit.

“Let me.”

Tessa nods furiously, bucking her hips with more determination, and he knows they’re both close. “What do you need, Tess?” He pinches her clit and she gasps. _Almost, but not quite_. “Tell me.”

“I need…” She grabs his ass with both hands and holds on tight. “I need you to just –“ She sort of rolls her hips instead of thrusting, and he catches on – changing the angle a little bit so that he’s hitting her deeper, and that seems to do the trick. A few more circles with his fingers and she comes with a shout. Her head falling back onto the pillows as her back arches into him.

The feeling of her clamping down around him as she comes, wet heat flooding his dick, is all it takes for him to follow her, and with two more pumps he’s seeing stars of his own – collapsing on top of her as his brain metaphorically explodes.

He has just enough residual awareness to roll to the side so that he doesn’t crush her, using what little energy remains to dispose of the condom while his chest heaves as his lungs struggle for air. Rolling back towards her and already feeling the irresistible pull of sleep. “Well, how’d I do, Virtch?”

She giggles breathlessly, and he pries his eyes open to look at her. Sweaty and sated and beaming. “I’d give this establishment a five star review. Excellent service.”

Laughing, Scott gathers her up in his arms, rolling onto his back and taking her with him so that she’s splayed out over his chest – her head resting just underneath his chin. There’s a strong chance she’ll want to leave now. Clean up and go home. And he’s certain she must be able to hear his heart pounding away like a racehorse – it’s probably deafening – at the prospect. But when she doesn’t move away it slowly starts to calm down. Especially when she starts tracing little shapes into one of his pecs.

“Can I still spend the night here?” She half-whispers into his skin, and the corner of his mouth crooks up.

“Right here?” He wraps both of his arms around her to emphasize his question, and she nods.

“No place I’d rather have you be.” He barely manages to kiss the top of her head, sleep already claiming him, and he only kind of notices when Tessa moves away to retrieve the comforter and pull it over them – his momentary panic disappearing when she snuggles back into her spot on top of him. “Goodnight, Virtch.”

_Stay here. Stay here with me like this forever._

“Goodnight, Scott,” She murmurs, kissing his sternum. He thinks she might have said something else after that (thank you? Or something that rhymed with that, he’s not quite sure), but he’s already too far gone to make it out. Falling into the most peaceful sleep he’s had in years. 


	15. something in the way she moves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something in the way she moves  
> Attracts me like no other lover  
> Something in the way she woos me  
> I don't want to leave her now  
> You know I believe and how
> 
> Somewhere in her smile she knows  
> That I don't need no other lover  
> Something in her style that shows me  
> I don't want to leave her now  
> You know I believe and how
> 
> You're asking me will my love grow  
> I don't know, I don't know  
> You stick around, now it may show  
> I don't know, I don't know
> 
> Something in the way she knows  
> And all I have to do is think of her  
> Something in the things she shows me  
> I don't want to leave her now  
> You know I believe and how

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional tag for the beginning of this chapter: accidental tantric sex?

** something in the way she moves **

****

Pale morning light creeps into the bedroom, sending long shadows across the floor and walls as the stars fade and the sky shifts from navy to shades of lavender, periwinkle, and pink – a thin streak of yellow bursting over the horizon and reflecting off the calm waters of the lake. It’s early yet, barely dawn, and Scott squeezes his eyelids reflexively against the intrusion of the day.

He doesn’t want to wake up yet, but there’s a pleasant weight on his chest keeping him from falling back asleep. A warm heaviness that’s soft in all the right places. And a slow smile spreads across his face when he breathes in the familiar scent of strawberry shampoo and coconut and lime lotion.

 _Tessa_.

She stayed. Exactly where he’d wanted her to. The thrilling realization sends a buzzing sensation from his head to his toes and back up again, leaving his skin hyper-sensitive and his brain stuffed full of fuzzy cotton. He’s never been so happy to wake up with someone else in his bed before, and he’s surprised to find that instead of feeling suffocating or constricting, it feels liberating. _Right._ Like two puzzle pieces slotting perfectly together.

He loves the feel of her, the comforting sensation of having her body pressed so solidly against his, the physical reassurance that she’s here – with him – safe and happy and taken care of. Loves that she felt comfortable enough to spend the night. And, yeah, he loves that they slept together naked. It’s so wonderfully intimate – something he’s never done with anyone else – so tender and soft. He feels like he’s got the whole universe resting on his chest and it’s precious and breakable and entrusted to him and he loves it. He loves –

He loves her.

He’s _in love_ with her.

The realization isn’t anything like Scott expected falling in love to be. He’d thought it would feel earth-shattering. A large piece of wood to the face. A punch to the gut. Sirens screaming and train horns blaring and all-consuming emotion. All of the air leaving his lungs in one quick burst as his universe shifted and the stars rearranged themselves in the sky and choirs of angels sang a rousing rendition of the Hallelujah Chorus.

But it isn’t groundbreaking or violent or shocking. It’s… golden. It’s the glowing feeling around his heart that he’s always associated with Tessa expanding into a giant sunburst of overwhelming adoration – like the sun currently cresting over the horizon in brilliant rays. He just didn’t recognize it because it wasn’t that cliché conflagration that movies and books tell you falling in love is supposed to be. It’s warm and steady and constant.

All this time, all these years, he’d thought that feeling was friendship. Assigned it a title and didn’t analyze it any further. Locked it in a box and simply accepted that everyone must feel that way about their best friend who they consider their platonic soulmate and moved on. But there’s nothing platonic about it, and he’s been so, so blind. Unaware of the reality that while she _is_ his best friend and soulmate, she’s also the love of his life. The _only_ love of his life. And he wants her in every way a man wants a woman. As long as they both shall live.

How could everyone have seen it, but him? He must be the most oblivious man on the planet.

Cautiously, he lays both of his hands on her bare back, just resting them there for a few minutes – soaking in her heat while inhaling her scent. Basking in the sensation of being so surrounded by the woman he loves. _The woman he loves_ – the thought makes him want to burst into giddy laughter, but he holds it in so as not to wake her. As excited as he is, he knows Tessa isn’t a morning person (to put it mildly) and being woken up by a sudden burst of noise would _not_ endear him to her – which is the exact opposite of how he wants her to feel.

He starts to trace his fingers up and down her spine, just a feather-light touch, and gently brushes her long hair to the side so that he has unfettered access to her entire back. Everything feels so different now. He’s touched her before, of course (only a few hours ago, in fact), but now it’s as if everywhere his fingers trail is alive. Down her spine, across her ribs, dipping into her lower back where the blanket is draped, and back up again. He could do this all day, if she’d let him.

Tessa shifts when his hand hits that spot on her lower back though, the little area where she’s especially ticklish if she’s touched just right, and he winces – expecting her to grumble and gripe or, worse, get out of bed and leave him – but when his fingers go still she just sighs and settles back into him, her breath ghosting over his nipple when she exhales.

When it seems like she isn’t going to wake up and he’s safe to continue his gentle exploration, Scott relaxes and begins touching her back again, confident that he’s got plenty of time to bask in his newly realized emotions so long as he avoids that spot. But then her thumb strokes his side in a move that’s much too deliberate not to have been on purpose.

He waits for her to say something, can feel her eyelashes blinking against the skin of his chest as she wakes up, waits for her to tell him to stop or say she has to leave, but she doesn’t. Just lets him continue drawing long lines onto her back while she slowly traces circles on his chest.

Her heart is beating steadily against his and Scott finds her breathing pattern and matches it, syncing up their bodies’ rhythm so that they’re in perfect harmony. Two hearts beating as one.

It’s the most comfortable he’s ever been, the most relaxed, and he finds himself thinking words like _forever,_ and _always_ , and _marry me_. Words that are much too big to say aloud. Words that would have sent him running for the hills before today. But they don’t scare him anymore. Not now. Not with Tess.

With her awake, he decides to be a little more daring and dip his fingers underneath the blanket to trace over her ass and down across the backs of her thighs. Not so much to try and instigate anything (although, yeah, obviously he wouldn’t mind), but just to continue chasing that feeling of everything being so new.

Who knew that love heightened every sensation? It’s addicting.

He traces back and forth across the line where her ass meet the top of her thighs a few times before gently seeking out the heat emanating from between her legs – lightly grazing just below where she wants him. Stroking her outer labia before moving back to the safer territory of her ass again, and Tessa shudders.

Her breath stutters and gets out of sync with his, becoming too fast and too shallow, and he misses it, so instead of pushing her further by continuing to explore below the waist he moves back up her spine and gently scratches back and forth – making her whimper. She loves the scrape of his nails against her skin, and the sudden change in sensation has both of them fully awake now.

“I should –“ She swallows thickly as his hands start combing through her hair, and Scott’s extra cautious not to be too rough so that he doesn’t catch and pull on any tangles. Running his hands through it with as much care as possible, occasionally scratching her scalp and making her shiver. “I have work.” She finally manages to say, and he spares a glance at the clock on his nightstand.

“It’s early yet,” He whispers, too scared of breaking the spell by speaking at a normal volume, “We have hours.”

“What about Hannah?”

“Black-out curtains,” Scott explains, shooting a quick mental thank you to whoever came up with such a marvelous invention, “The sunrise won’t wake her up.” He finds the freckles on her shoulders and starts connecting them one by one, memorizing their placement and creating his own constellations out of them. She used to be self-conscious about them, he knows – used to moan and groan about the flawless creamy skin that other girls seemed to have, free from such marks, but he’s always loved her freckles. Loved the way they seemed to reflect the starry Ilderton night sky. They remind him of home.

God, how could he have been thinking thoughts like that all these years and not realized the glaring subtext that he was IN LOVE WITH HER. No wonder nobody ever believed him when he said they were just friends. It’s a miracle he ever believed himself.

He’s not sure he regrets it though. As much as part of him wonders how their lives would be different if he’d realized his feelings sooner, the other part is grateful for having so many years as her best friend. He wouldn’t trade their closeness for all the gold medals or NHL contracts in the universe, and there’s always a possibility that if he’d come to this realization when he was younger he would have fucked it up and they wouldn’t have any of this now.

Not to mention the fact that if he and Tessa had gotten together years ago, he wouldn’t have Hannah. That’s an alternate reality too horrible to contemplate.

No. Better to be like this. To have a solid relationship built on love and respect and friendship above all else, before they try to add romance on top of it.

But he’s getting ahead of himself. He has no idea how Tessa feels – if she’s even interested in dating him, let alone those big words he was thinking earlier. Perhaps she’s content with the way things are right now and doesn’t want them to change. Especially if she plans on moving away in the fall. The thought is devastating and has him wrapping his arms around her body in a sudden hug and pressing his cheek against the top of her head. Effectively cradling her in his embrace.

Tessa doesn’t ask about it, just hugs him back as best she can before reaching out and picking up something off the bed – holding it up to the light and giggling. “We fell asleep with all the condoms on the bed.”

“Oh,” He chuckles, taking the silver packet from her and looking at the messy pile strewn about the mattress that she’d plucked it from, “Now you mention it, I think I feel one or two underneath my back.” There’s a sharp pinprick that he’d been ignoring underneath his left rib, and sure enough when he reaches for it he finds another condom.

Maybe grabbing an entire handful last night hadn’t been the smartest idea.

“We should probably clean up.” Tessa pushes off his chest to sit up, grabbing the sheet and pulling it around her body, tucking it underneath her armpits to keep herself modest even though the effect is somewhat ruined by the fact that she’s still straddling his waist and he can _feel_ the obscene heat radiating from between her legs. She looks so innocent like this, covering herself and make-up free and a head full of tousled hair, but it’s anything but.

“Why?” He sits up too, pulling her right in close so that they’re pressed together chest to chest again, and starts tracing her collarbone. Leaning in for a kiss that she dodges at the last second.

“Morning breath,” She apologizes with a grimace, covering her mouth with her hand, “It won’t be pleasant.”

Scott carefully extricates her hand and kisses the back of it before caressing her jaw with the back of his knuckles, slowly bringing his fingers up to outline her lips before shaking his head and letting out a quiet chuckle. “Tess, I don’t care about that.”

“You will.” He’s so close now that she speaks through gritted teeth, still trying to keep her distance, and Scott laughs.

“Let me find out for myself.”

“No.” She shakes her head and claps her hand over his mouth to prevent him from closing the gap between them, accidentally kissing the back of her own hand in the process. “Then the magic will be gone.”

“The magic?” He snorts, the words muffled by her hand, and she pouts adorably and tries to explain.

“You know, the magic of thinking your partner is perfect. No weird habits, nothing gross, no human weaknesses, no morning breath. If I let you kiss me now, the fantasy will be ruined.”

“Tess,” He laughs, shaking his head and going back to stroking her collarbone – trailing his fingertips all the way down to the tops of her breasts until the sheet impedes him from going any further, “I couldn’t care less about morning breath or if you haven’t shaved or if you’re human and ‘gross’ sometimes,” He pauses to make air-quotes with his fingers and roll his eyes before continuing, “I’ve known you for twenty years – _that’s_ where the magic is. You’re not a fantasy, you’re the best reality.”

She blushes and a slow smile spreads across her face, full of wonder and amazement and disbelief, and Scott swoops in to kiss her before she can protest. Pouring every ounce of his feelings into the action.

Sure, she has morning breath, but so does he. And it doesn’t matter because she’s still Tessa and he just realized that he’s so, _so_ in love with her. So much that his heart feels like it’s bursting with fireworks each time he presses his lips against hers. Again and again and again, stroking her tongue with his and nibbling at her bottom lip until it’s puffy and swollen – and his are the same.

She starts to grind against him, just the slightest shift of her hips – seeking out friction wherever she can find it – but he stops her with his hands on her waist. He wants that, too, but not yet. First he wants to explore her some more. Take his time and touch every inch of her body. Make her feel his love, even if he can’t say the words out loud yet.

He wants to – wants to shout them from the rooftops and then whisper them tenderly against her skin and then maybe buy one of those banners they hang off the back of airplanes – but it wouldn’t be right to say them for the first time while they’re naked and about to have sex. He doesn’t want to risk his intentions being misconstrued or for her to think he’s only blurting them out in the heat of the moment. No, when he tells her (and he _will_ tell her) it has to be the perfect moment. Flowers and candles and music and his heart on his sleeve.

Tessa tears her mouth away from his, pushing back on his shoulders so that she can look at him properly, and frowns. “What’s wrong? Why did you stop me?”

“I want to.” He leans forward to peck her lips to reassure her. Once, twice, three times, just to be safe. “I promise. But first let me touch you.”

“You _are_ touching me,” She snorts, rolling her eyes and her hips at the same time – emphasizing the current placement of his hands, and Scott laughs and taps his fingers against her.

“No, I know. I just meant I want to take my time. Go slow.”

“Slow?” She arches her eyebrow and cocks her head, trying to read his expression, and he nods and kisses her forehead, then the bridge of her nose, the each cheek, before pulling back with a soft smile.

“Yeah. Is that okay?”

“I guess so.”

“So can I -?” He tugs at the top of the sheet, and she nods – wordlessly giving him permission to tug it free and let it fall to the sides, baring her to him again. Only this time it’s in the butter-yellow light of morning, the sun’s rays hitting all her curves and highlighting them like she’s a priceless painting.

That’s where he’ll begin.

He encourages her to sit back a little so that he has more room and then slowly starts to trace the contrasting lines left by the sun and shadows. Watching his hands as they move across her chest, down each arm, between her breasts, over her abs – smiling when she sucks in her stomach and giggles breathlessly. Stroking along her hips and down the outside of each thigh before curving around her knees to caress up the softer insides – skipping her center completely in favor of trailing back up to her bellybutton and around her piercing before brushing all eight fingers lightly over her breasts, just barely, barely touching her nipples.

They’re hard, aching for his touch, and he wants to do something about it, but not yet. The second he gives in, the second it’s over too soon, and he wants to draw this morning out for as long as possible. Just in case the nasty voice in the back of his head is right and they don’t get to do this again.

Scott drags his eyes away from her body to look at her face and finds her eyes closed and her mouth hanging open. She’s gone incredibly still, her body tense with restraint, her hands clenching and unclenching behind his neck where she’d looped them for support, and he chuckles.

“Breathe, Tess.” He smirks, leaning in to kiss her jaw and smiling when she inhales sharply. Watching while she blinks her eyes open and fixes him with a dazed look.

“Sorry,” She swallows. Her voice is thick and raspy and the sound shoots straight to his groin.

“Don’t be sorry,” He teases, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses underneath her ear and trailing them and down to her sternum, “Just don’t pass out, either.”

She lets out a breathless little laugh, tilting her head to the side to give him more room and whimpering when he sucks on her earlobe. “Easier said than done.”

“Is this too much?” He reaches around to touch her back again, this time stroking his fingers from the top of her spine all the way down to the crease of her ass, dipping his fingers inside before bringing them back around and going up her sides to her ribs.

“No,” She moans, her head falling forward onto his shoulder as her chest heaves irregularly against him, “It feels good. I’m just not…” She stutters when he caresses her ass again then moves down the backs of her thighs, “…Used to it.”

“To what?” With her neck and shoulder right there, he can’t resist running his lips along her skin. Not using enough pressure to be a true kiss, but enough that she can feel every single centimeter his lips touch. Relishing in the little noises she makes deep in the back of her throat.

“To being worshipped, I guess.”

He can feel her cheek heating up where it’s pressed against his skin, and Scott smiles softly and hugs her again, kissing the crook of her neck. “You deserve to be worshipped like this every day.” 

“By you?” She whispers, burying her hands in his hair and holding on tight.

“If you want me to,” He whispers back, and it’s his turn for his heart to start thumping erratically. Its rapid, staccato rhythm beating out an endless litany of _pick me, want me, love me_.

Sitting like this, wrapped around each other in his bed, feels all-encompassing. Overwhelming in the best way. Emotionally, mentally, physically. He’s hard as a rock and aching for her, but he’s never cared less about that in his life. It’s not release that he wants (not by itself), it’s the connection. Even if he can’t say the words out loud yet, he wants to feel as close to Tessa as possible. Together.

“I want you,” She murmurs against him, her hand slithering between their bodies until it wraps around his cock – and Scott jerks at the sudden sensation and immediately pulls her hand away, holding it behind her back for good measure.

“This isn’t about me,” He gasps, shaking his head and trying to calm his racing heart. Even that brief touch from her had been almost too much to handle. If she continues like that, this will be over way too soon.

“I _want_ you,” Tessa insists, trying again with her other hand when he refuses to free her, and Scott does the first thing that comes to mind to stop her – he slaps her ass. Not too hard, but enough to make her yelp in surprise, and they just stare at each other in a mixture of shock and – _arousal_. She’s into that, he can tell. Especially when her tongue darts out to lick her bottom lip.

 _Fuck_.

He’s the first one to break, quickly saying “I’m sorry!” and peppering her cheeks with a thousand little kisses to make up for what he’d just done, even though he’s not sure he’s sorry at all – or that Tessa wants him to be. But he should have asked for permission first and he didn’t, so he owes her an apology.

After a moment though she starts to giggle. “Don’t be.” She pushes on his shoulders to get him to look at her, meeting his bashful gaze with a bold one of her own. “I liked it, you just took me by surprise.”

_Oh._

_Oh fuck._

“Yeah?” He gulps, feeling his confidence return bolder and more brash than before, and when she nods he does it again – grinning wickedly when her yelp is more of a moan. _Something to remember for another time._

“I want to touch you too, though.” She trails her hands down his chest, tweaking his nipples and making him gasp before tracing his abs and down his happy trail to his dick again, but again he stops her – wrapping his hands around both wrists and pretending to glare.

“For such a great student you are _really_ bad at listening.”

“I’m an excellent listener!” She protests, wriggling her arms to try and break free and failing. “Why are you being so stubborn about this? Are you trying to drive me crazy?”

“Guilty as charged.” He grins and raises her hands high above her head, easily holding them together with one hand while drawing circles around her breasts with the other, refusing to touch her nipples even though he can tell by the way she arches eagerly into him that she wants him to.

“Is that a formal plea?” She gasps, still trying to play along, and he loves her for it. “Should I take you to the judge for sentencing?”

“I dunno.” He tugs on her bellybutton ring, earning a gasp. “Are you my lawyer or acting on behalf of the prosecution?”

Her eyes find his and she bites her bottom lip, her voice surprisingly tender and earnest, “Yours, of course.”

 _Oh god_. There’s no way for her to possibly know what hearing her say that does to him, even if it’s in the context of a joke, and it takes everything he has not to flip them over and bury himself inside her and go wild. “Then I trust you with my defense when I’m done. Now lay back.”

“What?” Her eyes go wide, clearly not understanding what he wants her to do, and so he nudges her shoulders and jerks his head to gesture behind her where his legs are spread out towards the foot of the bed.

“I can’t have you trying to distract me. Lay back.”

“On your legs?”

“Yeah. And lift your arms over your head, too, just to be safe.”

She does as instructed, laying back until her head is resting on his shins and grabbing ahold of his ankles – looking back at him with raised eyebrows, her voice breathy and eager, despite her confusion. “What now?”

“Now you stay like that until I say you can move.” He winks and she tries to sit up again. There’s a protest forming, he can tell, and she huffs in frustration when he gently, but firmly, holds her down.

“ _Scott_!”

“Tess.” He lets go so that she can prop herself up on her elbows and holds his hands out so that she knows she has a choice. “If you don’t want to, you don’t have to, but I’d really like to continue touching you right now.”

“I- _god_ , Scott,” She groans and flops backwards, throwing one of her arms over her eyes, “You’re killing me, but okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes.”

Grinning, he gets back to work running his hands all over her body. This time with much more ease as she’s stretched out so beautifully in front of him. Her legs are still wrapped around his waist, but her torso completely exposed, and he spends an inordinate amount of time on her breasts, massaging them, stroking them, rubbing her nipples with his thumbs until she’s writhing and her fingernails are digging into his ankles hard enough to break skin and he knows he’ll find little crescent moons there afterwards.

It’s probably borderline torture for her, but he can’t help it. He’s a man who’s attracted to women and specifically _incredibly_ attracted to her, and, well, _boobs_. But eventually he moves lower – brushing over her stomach and tracing each and every dip and freckle he finds there. Marveling at the strength of her muscles that he can feel when he presses his palm flat against her abs.

Her cunt clenches around nothing while he explores, wetness leaking out of her, and he finds it fascinating. He’s never spent his time with a woman like this. Never bothered to dedicate so much time to getting to know her body. Never just _watched_ and categorized the way it reacted to all the little things he did to it. _Jesus_ , Tessa’s body is amazing. He’s always known that, of course, but knowing and experiencing are two very, very different things.

Unable to resist, he runs his index finger through her folds, barely flicking her clit, and Tessa makes the most beautiful noise as her body shudders and seizes up in response.

“Did you just –?”

She pries her eyes open to look at him, clearly feeling self-concious. A flush that he wants to follow with his tongue spreading rapidly down her body. “A little,” She admits, “Kind of, yeah.”

“Wow.” It never occurred to him she could have an orgasm just from this, even if it was a small one, and he hauls her up for a kiss – spreading his hands out wide against her back as he holds her to him and pours all of his amazement and wonder and love into making-out with her. Allowing himself a brief break in going slow to indulge in a more heated pace for a moment or two.

“Does this mean I can touch you now?” She gasps, pulling her mouth away to kiss his shoulder, scooting in closer until he can feel her center pressed against his cock – hot and slick and oh so tempting.

“Get a condom.” Comes his rather eloquent reply, and Tessa quickly does as he commands – grabbing one of the silver packets off the bed (strike his earlier thought – getting more than one had been a brilliant idea. _Excellent bit of foresight, Mr. Moir_ ) and tearing the foil off, tossing the wrapper to the side before rolling the rubber over his dick with an expertise that he doesn’t want to think about, but is grateful for all the same.

Once secured, he flips them over – taking Tessa by surprise and making her huff out a laugh. “You want to be on top again?”

“Is that okay?” If she wants to ride him he’d have no objections (honestly, who would?), but right now he wants to continue feeling close to her and he can’t think of a better way to do that than being pressed up against her like this with the mattress for support. Plus, it will be easier for him to control the pace this way and keep things moving slowly. Given her eagerness this would probably be over in five minutes if he let her be on top.

“It’s great,” She nods, reaching between them to line him up – pausing to smile and tentatively ask, “But maybe next time we could switch?”

It’s the first time _she’s_ mentioned a next time, and Scott practically beams at her. Grinning so wide it hurts his cheeks. Caressing her hair away from her face, he kisses the bridge of her nose and nods, “You bet, Virtch. Any position you want, you name it.”

“Ballet dancer?” She winks and he splutters in surprise, pressing his forehead against hers as he laughs, her own giggles echoing his own. 

“I don’t know what that is, but I’m somehow not surprised that you know a sex position with that name.”

“It’s where we face each other while standing and you help support me while I raise one of my legs on your shoulder and you penetrate me.” She blushes as she describes it, but her eyes get this sort of glazed, far-off look that makes him go all fuzzy with want. “Technically I could just put my leg around your waist, but we both know I’m flexible enough to try it the harder way.” _Harder_. Yes. Good. “I’ve never tried it before, but I’ve always wanted to.”

“Tess,” Scott groans, rolling his head to the side to bury it in the crook of her neck, “Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Is that weird?”

“No it’s not weird. It’s fucking sexy as hell.” He laughs in disbelief. As if that could be anything other than the sexiest thing he’s ever heard. She has sex positions she wants to try with him – _holy shit_. Is she making a list? Keeping track? Can he make suggestions? “ _Yes_ we can try that, babe. You just name the day.”

“Okay.” Her cheeks are still pink, but her tone and smile both scream happiness and anticipation in equal measure, and Scott can’t help but kiss her. It’s becoming an addiction, one that he’s rapidly becoming convinced he’ll be unable to live without after this. He wants to kiss her all the time. Morning kisses and have-a-good-day-at-work kisses and welcome home kisses and just because kisses and heavy, intense kisses that lead to kisses in _other places_ before bed.

He just… he wants everything.

Scott pushes into her slowly, savoring each inch as it disappears inside her. In no haste to speed things up or have them end too soon. There’s always the chance that once he confesses that he’s in love with her she’ll bring their physical relationship to an end, and if that’s the case then he wants to make sure he commits every moment of this to memory.

His movements are slow, measured, and controlled. Drawing almost completely out of her each time before thrusting back in. Until they’re both sweaty and panting, their bodies so taut that even the slightest touch could set them off. It’s the most intense exercise in self-control he’s ever put himself through – nearly reaching orgasm multiple times, but staving off release by sheer force of will (and the terrifying, but useful, thought of a mascot or two). Resisting the urge to speed up, even though every cell in his body is screaming for him to go faster, faster, faster.

 _“Faster_ ,” Tessa groans, echoing his thoughts and grabbing his ass with both hands as if she can take over doing the job for him, “Come on, Scott.”

“Wait,” He gasps, stopping completely half-way inside her and taking a break to kiss across every inch of her chest that he can reach, licking the sweat off her body while trying to calm himself down, “Just wait.”

“Wait for _what_?” She practically growls and tugs the roots of his hair, smashing her lips against his for a searing kiss that sends his head spinning. “It’s been over an hour and I need you.”

 _Has it really?_ He looks over to the clock and finds that she’s right – it’s actually been almost two hours since he first started touching her. _Wow_. Somehow it feels both infinitely longer and incredibly shorter than that at the same time. All sense of time and space narrowed down to this bed, this woman, and this moment.

He laughs in utter amazement, the vibrations of his body against hers shooting bolts of pleasure up his spine, heightening his awareness of where they’re so intimately connected (as if he wasn’t extremely aware of that already). “Holy shit. I hadn’t noticed. This just feels so good, like this, with you. I don’t want it to ever end.”

Her face softens, her green eyes shining with something he’s too afraid to define for risk of guessing wrong, and her grip on his hair relaxes into gentle strokes that feel heavenly. “Has it even been like this for you before?”

“No.” He shakes his head, suddenly overcome with emotion. Tears pricking the back of his eyelids that he prays won’t spill over and ruin the moment. “No, it’s never been like this.”

That must be the world’s biggest understatement. He didn’t know it was possible to feel this much about another person.

“Me either,” She whispers, pressing her forehead against his again and sucking in a deep breath – holding him close, and he knows it’s time.

He speeds up his pace, hitching her leg over his waist to give them a better angle, and sets a rhythm that’s both intense and deep. They can’t kiss like this, too breathless and caught up in keeping up with each other’s thrusts, but they keep their mouths pressed together anyway, breathing in the same air and gasping each other’s names.

With a flick of his fingers, Tessa finally comes – crying out his name intermingled with some rather creative curse words as she falls apart, her orgasm long and drawn out and triggering his own, which is nothing short of earth-shattering. His whole body succumbing to the pleasure of finally being able to give in after holding out for so long.

When he comes to (he’s pretty sure he blacked out there for a second), Tessa’s still gasping beneath him, just as mind-blown as he is and staring up at the ceiling through half-lidded eyes in silent amazement.

Scott has just enough wherewithal to kiss her and slide off of her, still covering half of her body with his and leaving his hand resting over her heart where he can feel it thundering beneath her sternum. It wasn’t a very far way to go, but after that his body gives up and refuses to move anymore until it has a chance to recover.

"That was –“ She starts, covering his hand with hers over her heart and lacing their fingers together.

“The best sex I’ve ever had.” He finishes for her with a tired, sated smile. Only he knows that wasn’t what it was. It was, as cheesy as it may sound, making love. They were making love. Because he’s _in love with her_. The thought still filling him with the same giddiness it did when he woke up and first came to the realization. The words on the tip of his tongue, eager to burst out of him.

_Tessa Jane McCormick Virtue I am in love with you!_

(He’s pretty sure it has to be her full name. That makes it legally binding, right? He’ll have to ask her.)

“Yeah,” She agrees with his assessment, smiling even as she wipes the corners of her eyes with the back of her hand, “Unexpectedly intense, but yeah.”

“Intense bad?” He asks, struggling to prop himself up on his elbow, suddenly worried that he’d taken things too far. Maybe all she wanted was a quick fuck and he’s ruined everything by being all emotional and _tender._

“No,” She rushes to reassure him, setting his mind at ease with the touch of her hand on his cheek, “No way. The polar opposite of bad.”

"So what’s the jury’s verdict then?” He teases, not fighting it when his elbow gives out and he’s forced to lay back down.

“Oh,” Her mouth goes comically round at the reminder, clearly having forgotten their earlier conversation, but then curves into a much more calculated smile, her eyes flashing with mirth as she rolls onto her side to look at him. “They said you got off scot-free.”

He bursts out laughing and she joins in, reaching for each other as they giggle and grin like idiots. “Tessa Virtue, I can’t believe you figured out how to make a dirty joke and a pun in the same sentence.”

“Didn’t you hear?” She dances her fingers up his ribcage, make him snort and squirm, “I’m really smart and a _good listener_. I learn quickly.”

“Oh, I know,” He grins, “It’s one of the many reasons that I lo-“

The monitor lights up with bright green lights as Hannah starts to cry, demanding attention and breakfast and a diaper change – not necessarily in that order - bringing their bubble crashing back down to reality and saving him from a rather impromptu and premature confession.

(There needs to be candles and roses, dammit!)

“Do you want-“

“I should –“

They both laugh and he sits up, summoning enough energy to swing his legs over the side of the bed - wobbling a little when he stands up and the blood rushes back into his head again. “I’ll throw some clothes on and go get her. You take a shower.”

“Okay,” She agrees quietly, already tiptoeing in the direction of his bathroom and eagerly eyeing his shower (god what he wouldn’t give to be able to join her), “I’ll be quick.”

“Take your time. We’ll be in the kitchen when you’re done. Do you want pancakes?”

She pops her head around the corner of the bathroom door and grins. “Sure. That sounds delicious.”

“Then pancakes it is.” Scott throws on a t-shirt and some cut-off sweatpants that are older than any pants have a right to be (he should have thrown them out years ago, but they’ve been washed so many times now they’re impossibly, perfectly soft) and heads towards Hannah’s room – leaving the sound of running water and Tessa’s slightly off-key rendition of Taylor Swift’s anthology behind.

By the time he has Hannah changed and dressed for the day and sitting in her highchair with some yoghurt puffs to gnaw on, the mid-morning sun is shining like a beacon through the living room windows. It’s a glorious morning, if he says so himself, and he mentions it aloud to Hannah when he catches her watching him dance while flipping the pancakes.

“Aren’t Fridays the best days, Hannah-banana?” He spins around and drops a kiss on top of her head, earning a string of noises and an offering of a mashed puff that he accepts with a smile. They aren’t such bad little snacks, although he prefers it when he doesn’t have to eat them half-soggy and creased from her hand.

(The trials of parenthood.)

Maybe this would be the moment to tell Tessa he loves her. He could spell it out in pancake batter and then when it’s nice and golden and cooked to perfection set it down on her plate as a surprise. Or write it out on top of a stack of pancakes in chocolate syrup. Everything’s better covered in chocolate, or so Tessa says, and it might help _sweeten_ the deal.

(Yes, he laughs at his own pun, so sue him.)

He doesn’t have any roses, but there are some candles in the cupboard somewhere. And now that he’s thinking about it, he has a whole refrigerator full of things he could use to tell her how he feels that could make it special. Whipped cream, strawberries, bananas, chocolate chips. Or, if he wanted to be really ambitious, he could put them all together and create a majestic edible modern art piece.

“Oh shit, are you making pancakes?” Chiddy slings his overnight bag off his shoulder and tosses it onto the nearest chair, heading straight for the stove and breathing in the smell with a longing smile. “I love your pancakes. Can I have some? I’m absolutely _famished_ this morning.”

Scott stares at Chiddy as he steals a handful of strawberries, his mouth hanging open like an idiot, dumbfounded and confused by his friend’s sudden appearance. “Uh… you’re home.”

“Yeah I’m home. Spent the night at the office,” _code word: Liz’s place,_ “But I came back this morning so that I could shower and change before heading back for the twelve o’clock news. What’s the special occasion?” He gestures towards the stack of pancakes, half of which are filled with chocolate chips – something he only ever adds for one person. “Are you taking breakfast over to Tess or something? Is this a post-birthday treat? Because I hate to break it to you, man, but she ate half her weight in chocolate and strawberries last night. I don’t think she’ll want any more for a while.”

“I… um…”

“Hey, Scott, I used up the rest of your conditioner so you’re going to need –“ Tessa rounds the corner into the kitchen and skids to a stop at the sight of Chiddy. The smile she’d been sporting twisting into a mixture of shock and disappointment and mortification. The three of them going completely still as they stare at each other in some sort of Mexican standoff.

Scott tries to think of some sort of explanation to give Chiddy – anything that could pass off as believable – but his mind is drawing a blank. It would help if it wasn’t so blatantly obvious what happened, but between Tessa’s borrowed clothes (his Pink Floyd t-shirt looks so much better on her, for the record) that leave the hickey on her neck plainly visible, and her dripping wet hair, and the guilty expression that he knows must be mirrored on his own face, not to mention her complete lack of pants, Scott can see Chiddy putting two and two together.

“Oh. My. God.” Chiddy points an accusing finger at both of them, bouncing back and forth while his mouth gapes like a fish. “Oh my _god!_ Did you two finally –“

“I have to go to work!” Tessa shouts the words as loud as she can to shut him up, then spins around on her heel and marches back in the direction she came from. Leaving an unnerving silence behind her.

“Holy shit,” Chiddy mutters, mostly to himself, before letting out a funny sort of laugh, “You did. You actually, really did.”

Scott laughs awkwardly and turns back to the pancakes, barely saving the one currently in the pan from being blackened beyond edibility. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Tess just slept over like she always does.”

"She did not just _sleep over_ ,” Chiddy hisses, his attempt at whispering somewhat ruined by the way he emphatically waves his arms out to the side – nearly knocking the whipped cream onto the floor, “Don’t try to pull that shit with me, Scott Moir. Something happened.”

“Yeah,” Scott snorts to cover up his terrible poker face and begins tearing apart pieces of a pancake to give to Hannah – working slower than he normally would to make sure that each piece is small enough for her and to try and stave off Chiddy’s interrogation, “What happened is that she slept over. And this morning she took a shower. Apparently using up all my conditioner in the process so I’m gonna have to run to the store today at some point.” He tries to sound annoyed, but he can tell Chiddy isn’t buying it.

“Scott!” Tessa pokes her head around the corner again, this time with her arms full of her clothes and shoes from the night before and her purse slung over her shoulder – her feet tucked securely into his slippers, which she wiggles around for a second like she’s doing the hokey-pokey. “I’m borrowing these, okay? Just to get home in.”

“Sure, Virtch.” He smiles easily, blatant adoration creeping into his voice even though he tries not to let it slip out in front of Chiddy’s watchful gaze. “Do you need a ride home?”

“No, I called an Uber. It should be here any second so I’m going to head down to the lobby. Thank you again for –“ She blushes scarlet and they both glance at Chiddy, who merely smirks way too knowingly, “- For the birthday party and all of the work you put into it, and for letting me crash here. On the couch. It’s a nice couch, so thanks.”

Well, shit. She couldn’t have made it more obvious if she tried. Chiddy knows she’s never once slept the whole night on the couch here, which means the only reason she’d say that was if she was trying to convince him they hadn’t done anything indecent in Scott’s bed. Thereby making it even more obvious that they _did._

Scott’s going to get the third degree the second she walks out the door.

“Bye, Hannah-banana!” Tessa blows her a kiss and waves at her, and Hannah attempts to wave back - sticking her arm straight out and twisting her hand in that funny way she’s started learning lately. “Bye, Scott. I’ll call you.”

She sort of stares at him for a second, her last words hanging in the air like a question, then spins around again and rushes out the door – letting it uncharacteristically slam behind her when it shuts.

“So…” Chiddy starts, serving himself some pancakes and pouring a healthy amount of maple syrup over them, “Are you going to tell me everything or do I have to pester you until you give in? We both know I’ll do it so option one will be less painful.”

“I think I’m in love with Tess,” Scott blurts out, the words bursting out of him of their own accord without giving him any time to try and rein them in. He hadn’t meant to say it so bluntly, or even at all, but they’ve been aching to be said aloud for the past three hours and it was the first viable opportunity.

Desperate for a way to avoid looking at Chiddy, he grabs the nearest dish and starts soaping it up in the sink, scrubbing vigorously to try and distract himself from his confession and whatever reaction Chiddy might be having right now. Probably shock, maybe disbelief, hopefully not disapproval.

“You think,” Chiddy says slowly, “Or you know?”

“I know,” Scott confirms, grabbing another plate and beginning to clean that, too. Thinking fondly of the night before and how he and Tessa had played with the bubbles while they talked. Somehow she managed to turn his kitchen sink into a romantic spot. 

“Oh thank god!” Chiddy sighs dramatically, slapping the countertop before placing his hand over his heart and sagging against the back of a bar stool like he’s the one emotionally drained by this admission. “I thought you’d never figure it out and I was beginning to panic.”

“Aww.” Scott bends over to put the plate he was working on in the dishwasher and looks up to smile at his second-best friend, oddly touched by his concern. “I didn’t know how much you cared about my love life, Patrick. It’s nice that you’re looking out for me.”

"I don’t,” Chiddy snorts, shoving another large bite of pancakes in his mouth, “I bet that you’d figure it out before Hannah’s first birthday and we’re getting down to crunch time. There's only a month left. I didn’t want to owe Jeff two hundred bucks.”

“ _What!?”_ Scott stands up so fast he almost hits his head on the open cupboard door, barely dodging it in time. Thank god, because the last thing he needs right now is for Tessa to have to meet him at the hospital for another concussion. What girl wants to date a guy so prone to head injuries? “What do you mean ‘owe Jeff two hundred bucks’? You guys were betting on me and Tess?”

“You didn’t seriously think Jeff and I wouldn’t have a pool going, did you?” Chiddy shares a look with Hannah that says _can you believe this guy_. “Don’t worry, we got Hannah in on it too. Jeff and I added ten bucks each on her behalf so she could get a hefty sum if you manage to wait to tell Tess until your birthday. A nice start to her college fund.”

That’s a low blow, considering Scott doesn’t think it should be allowed for friends to use your infant daughter against you, but he can’t deny that part of him is curious about how much money is in this supposed pool of theirs.

“Uh… No, no I didn’t expect you guys to be betting on us.”

“Scott,” Chiddy rolls his eyes and finishes off his pancakes before handing over his plate and fork to be washed, “Jeff and I have been making bets about you and Tessa for the last seven years. Ever since your Drunken Ramble of New Year’s Eve Twenty-Ten – yes, that’s its official name - when you went off for _forty-five straight minutes_ about how amazing Tess was. Which, incidentally, is why Jessica broke up with you a week later.”

“That’s why she broke up with me?” Scott asks in surprise, leaning back against the counter and folding his arms over his chest. He’d been so shocked at the time – twenty-three years old, a first time Olympic gold-medalist, an NHL star, and too cocky for his own good – he couldn’t understand why she’d dumped him and he and Tess had left to spend a week in Los Angeles while he tried to make sense of it. “I thought it was because she was going back to Bryce.”

“She was,” Chiddy concedes, “But your little lovey-dovey monologue didn’t help.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me I was in love with Tess then?” Scott asks, not really mad, but still reeling from the revelation, “Why let me go on like this for so long?”

Chiddy snorts and starts cutting up tiny pieces of strawberry to give to Hannah. “Don’t be an idiot. Everyone has been pointing it out to you for years, you just refused to listen.”

“I guess that’s true… I guess I’ve been too afraid of things changing to let myself consider the possibility.”

 _There_. He admitted that it wasn’t altruism forcing him to keep the secret, it was fear. All this time, if he really thinks about it, fear was the underlying motivation for not allowing himself to fall in love with Tess (or recognize it when he did). He disappointed in himself for letting it go on so long.

"So what’s different now?” Chiddy pauses feeding Hannah to smirk at Scott. “Besides the fact that you slept together, obviously, and don’t try to deny it.”

“I’m not going to deny it. You’d know I was lying.”

“True.”

Scott stops to think about it, trying to find an answer that makes sense, but he can’t. All he has is a certainty that he loves her and wants to be with her as more than friends. “I don’t know what’s different. I’m not sure anything even _is_ different, really. I just feel like I’m seeing things clearly for the first time. Finally recognizing what’s been there all along. And I want it, Chiddy, I want it all. I want to be with Tess.”

“I’m happy for you, man, but…” Chiddy lets his voice trail off, shrugging and grabbing another strawberry to cut up. There’s something about his expression that has Scott’s stomach twisting into knots.

“But what? You don’t think she feels the same way? Has she said something?” _Oh god_. She doesn’t love him back and Chiddy knows it and now his heart is about to be shattered into a million pieces.

“It’s not that.” Chiddy shakes his head, the grip around Scott’s heart loosening somewhat. “It’s just that I have to wonder if this is in part because she said she might be moving away.”

“This has nothing to do with that,” Scott dismisses the idea quickly. Honestly it hardly occurred to him while they were together this morning, other than in relation to how grateful he was to have her in his arms. And he certainly isn’t only saying that he’s in love with her because he’s afraid of losing her. Sure, it’s unfortunate timing, but the two things are unrelated.

“Are you sure?” Chiddy fixes him with a look, his tone doing nothing to hide his disbelief. “Because yesterday you weren’t in love with her and today you are, and all that’s changed is that now you might lose her.”

“That’s not true.” Isn’t he listening? Scott just admitted that he’s been in love with her for a long time, probably longer than he even realizes. This isn’t some last-ditch effort to keep her in Toronto!

“Maybe, maybe not. But you have to ask yourself, Scott, what’s best for Tessa. Would your purpose in telling her how you feel now be to keep her here with you? And if so, is that really what’s best for her?”

“Isn’t telling her the truth what’s best?” Scott shoots back, sullen and defensive and hating the turn this conversation has taken.

“Probably,” Chiddy shrugs, “Just make sure you’re doing it for the right reasons.”

He isn’t doing anything though – he’s just admitting how he feels. But now what was supposed to be a wonderful, momentous occasion feels tainted by the thought that it could be seen as manipulative. Would everybody think that? Would they all whisper behind his back that he’d only told Tessa his feelings to keep her here?

Do people really think he’s that selfish? Does _Tessa?_

He really, really wants to talk to her about this and ask for her advice. She’s always the one he goes to for everything – especially the really serious, important stuff – but this time it concerns her and so he can’t. It’s not as though he can call her up and say, “Hey, so I’m like, madly, deeply in love with you. Do you think I should tell you or keep quiet so that it doesn’t affect your decision about school?”

That won’t exactly work.

Maybe Chiddy is right, though. Maybe he should keep his feelings to himself – at least until Tessa has made a decision. Once she knows where she wants to go and has informed the school, _then_ he can decide if he wants to tell her or not. The last thing he wants to do is hold her back or keep her in Toronto if that’s not where she wants to be.

Keep one simple secret – that’s all he has to do. Keep his secret and wait and in the meantime act like everything is totally fine and nothing’s changed.

He can do that.

For Tessa.

****

This is awkward.

It shouldn’t be - sitting across from Tessa in their favorite coffee shop, surrounded by all the scents and sounds that are familiar to them, drinking his favorite order made exactly how he likes it – it should be totally normal. Fun and carefree and full of jokes and laughter. The two of them catching up on their busy weeks and bantering and playing their favorite game of “Guess who here is secretly a spy.” 

But it’s _awkward_.

Because he knows now. He knows what it feels like to kiss her and touch her and he knows where all of her freckles are – could probably draw them from memory –and he knows what she sounds like when she comes and what she looks like last thing at night and first thing in the morning and how playful she is in bed and how much he wants to hold her. How much he wants to give her the world and be the one who makes her happy. He knows that he’s _in love_ with her. But he doesn’t know how to act around her anymore.

She’d asked if they could meet up for Sunday brunch this morning and he’d said yes because he’s never been able to deny her anything, especially now (all those offers to lasso the moon? Yeah, it’s that times a thousand), and she’s holding Hannah in her lap and playing peek-a-boo like it’s a normal day and all Scott can think about is how much he wishes that this were real. That they were a couple and Hannah belonged to both of them and he could teach his daughter to call Tessa “Mama” and that at the end of breakfast they were heading home together instead of having to go their separate ways.

But they do, because Tessa doesn’t know, and it’s awkward.

He should have told her with the pancakes two days ago like he wanted. _Fuck you, Chiddy_. Maybe then he wouldn’t be in this mess. Maybe, just maybe, Tessa would have said the words back to him and they’d be blissfully happy right now and playing footsie under the table and he wouldn’t be panicking about how to act and whether or not she’s made a decision about law school yet.

“I think she has a new tooth coming in,” Tessa says, interrupting Scott’s mental grumblings with a smile and a kiss on Hannah’s cheek, “Next to the other one she has on the bottom. You can kind of see a white spot peeking through her gums.”

“Oh, yeah.” He shakes his head a bit to clear out the rest of the cobwebs, trying his best to act as ordinary as possible and feign casualness so that she doesn’t suspect anything is amiss. “Yeah I noticed that yesterday morning. She’s growing so fast now.”

“Don’t get all weepy on me, Dad,” Tessa teases, bouncing Hannah on her knee and pulling ridiculous faces to make her laugh, “You’ve been in a funk all morning. Is it because she’s hitting another milestone? These are good things, Scott. I can’t wait until she starts talking for real.”

"I have not and no.” He shakes his head and reaches across the table to brush Hannah’s hair away from her forehead so that it hopefully won’t fall into her eyes so much while Tessa bounces her. “I’m glad she’s hitting more milestones.” 

“You have been in a funk, though,” Tessa shoots back, refusing to let him off the hook even though just this once he would really appreciate it if she let it go, “Are you going to tell me why or do I have to guess?”

“I’m not in a funk,” He insists, somewhat ruining the effect by tearing his bagel in half and sending crumbs and poppy seeds everywhere, “I’m just… pensive.” Scott scoops up the flakes in his hand and brushes them off onto a napkin, balling it up and sticking it under his plate so that it doesn’t roll away or get blown off the table the next time the door opens.

“Okay, now I know you’re in a funk. You’ve never used the word pensive before.” Her smile is too kind to really be considered teasing, and he can hear the concern underlying her words, so he tries not to sound too snarky when he replies, even though the urge scratches at the back of his throat.

“You’re not the only one who listens, T, I have picked up some of your vocabulary over the years.”

“Fine,” She sighs, exasperated that he isn't giving in easily, “Are you going to tell me why you’re _pensive_ this morning? Has something happened? Is this about -” Her cheeks turn pink as her voice trails off, making the implication clear. _Is this about Friday morning?_

_Yes_.

“Not really. Just got a lot on my mind.” Like how to address the issue of his feelings before he explodes without actually telling her about them. “Chiddy and Liz are dating.”

Maybe if he pretends the conversation is about somebody else, he can glean some wisdom from her without accidentally confessing everything. If he’s careful and not too obvious. He really needs some patented Tessa Virtue levelheaded advice right now.

“I know that.” She looks up from the book she was letting Hannah flip through and scrunches up her face. “Everyone does, even though they think we don’t. It’s so obvious. I wish they’d just admit it already, but maybe there are HR reasons why they can’t.”

“I know, I’ve just been thinking…” _It’s now or never, Moir, “_ If someone has feelings for someone else, don’t you think they should be honest about it? Even if it might not turn out the way they want, don’t you think it’s better in the long run to have everything out in the open instead of keeping it hidden? Don’t you think keeping secrets hurt more, eventually?”

All of the blood drains out of Tessa’s face, leaving her a ghastly shade of white, and her knee stops bouncing as her whole body tenses up – much to the disappointment of Hannah, who immediately makes her feelings verbally known.

“Sorry, Han, sorry,” Tessa scrambles to grab Hannah’s favorite teething toy out of the diaper bag and hand it to her, “Here you go, sweetheart.”

She turns back to Scott once Hannah’s content again and distracted by the toy with a visible crease forming between her eyebrows. Her voice unnaturally cheerful and lighthearted when she says, “What are you trying to say, Scott? That Chiddy should at least stop trying to hide his relationship to you, me, and Jeff? Because I agree. He’s dreadful at it.”

Scott takes a deep breath and starts picking apart the bagel for something to keep his hands occupied, unclenching his jaw and wishing he had something to chew on – a toothpick, a straw, a bottle cap, a pen – anything to channel some of this pent up energy into. “I’m just wondering if you think that honesty is the best policy – in any relationship, friendly or otherwise – or if you think keeping secrets is okay, if they’re kept in the best interest of the other person.”

_Dear God, please let her say that I should confess everything right now._

“I –“ She visibly swallows and reaches for her coffee, taking a long drag before setting it back down with shaking hands. “I’m not sure… I don’t… Are you asking me if I –“

“Excuse me,” A woman interrupts, shifting the weight of the toddler on her hip and smiling at the pair of them – clearly ignorant of the tension she’s just unwittingly stepped into, “I just have to tell you how adorable your little girl is. She has to be one of the cutest babies I’ve ever seen. I love that you wore matching outfits.”

“Oh,” Tessa pauses with half a smile on her face, looking down at her and Hannah’s matching pink shirts and jeans as if she hadn’t noticed before – her eyes unsure and glancing over at Scott, “Um… thank you.”

“You’re a lucky Mama.”

“No –“ Tessa stammers, “I’m not her–“

“Ma-ma,” Hannah repeats the word and Scott’s heart seizes up inside his chest, threatening to launch itself right out of his throat and into the stratosphere. She likes making new sounds, he knows this, knows that more often than not they’re just gibberish noises to her. And he knows she’d have no reason to associate those two simple syllables with Tessa. But, _god_ , he wants her to. Wants them to be a proper family so badly he could cry.

The woman smiles again and walks away and Tessa chuckles awkwardly before quickly handing Hannah over across the table, looking anywhere but at him. “Sorry about that. People make silly assumptions, eh?”

It’s not so silly from where he’s sitting, but his heart sinks to hear Tessa say it, looking as though the misunderstanding made her wildly uncomfortable instead of overjoyed like it did him. He and Hannah are a package deal, and it never occurred to him that Tessa might not want that package. It’s a heartbreaking thought, even though his brain refuses to accept the possibility that it might be true.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

He may not be able to hear her say _damn it_ , but he knows she’s thinking it based on the way her face twitches and the corners of her mouth turn downwards into a slight frown. “No, I didn’t. Um… I believe in being honest, but I also think that sometimes it’s okay, if you know that being honest might upset the other person, to keep secrets – depending on what they are. If keeping the secret protects them or if it’s something you know they might not be ready to hear. Sometimes there are things we want to say, or have wanted to say for a long time, that we keep secret because it… because it might cause one of us pain.”

"Even if the other person would want to know, good or bad, ready or not?”

“I’m confused,” She tries to laugh, but it comes out more distorted and choked than anything, “Are we still talking about Chiddy?”

 _She knows we're not_. He has to tell her. The words will strangle him if he doesn't.

“Tess,” He sighs, “I know –“

“I have something to tell you,” She blurts out, cutting him off before he can work up to a confession. Fiddling with the rings on her finger and still looking at him with that strange mix of discomfort and something akin to regret. “I’m leaving.”

“You’re what!?” His whole body jerks wildly, his limbs shooting out in every direction as he sits up as straight as a rod, and the salt shaker that had been sitting precariously close to the edge of the table plummets to the floor, shattering upon impact.

There’s chaos all around them as the waiter cleans it up, his broom scraping at the granules sticking to the bottom of Scott’s shoes, but Scott doesn’t care or pay any attention to anything the poor kid says. All he can think about is the woman sitting across from him and the devastating blow she’s just dealt. 

“With Jordan,” Tessa clarifies, barely saving him from having a heart attack, “In the interest of being honest, like you were just saying, I thought you should know about it. We’re going on a school tour to see all of the campuses where I’ve been accepted and meet with the professors and get a feel for what they’re really like. I want to make an informed decision, you know? Go into this with my eyes wide open.”

“Oh.” His heart struggles to get back to normal, his gut still clenched so tightly he’s getting a cramp, and Scott stares silently at the necklace she’s wearing for lack of anything to say. It’s a delicate little gold thing with a French inscription on it that she’d seen in a shop when she was seventeen and fallen in love with. He'd ended up buying it for her with his first Maple Leafs paycheck. _Toujours_ , he remembers, which he’d Googled to discover meant _always._

He gets why she wants to go, he does. It sucks, but he understands. Tessa never makes a decision without weighing all of the pros and cons first. Dotting her I’s and crossing her T’s (pun intended). And it makes sense that she’d want her sister with her when she goes on this grand tour. After all, who could give her better lawyer advice than Jordan? And that they’d want to go soon and not delay making a choice. But it still really _really_ sucks. “When do you leave?”

Tessa reaches for her coffee again, hiding behind the rim of the large mug when she says, “Thursday.”

Four days from now. That’s so fast. “How long will you be gone?”

“Three weeks.”

“That’s,” He coughs to hide his pained groan, “Kind of a long time.”

It’s a crazy long time, given how quickly it’s come up, and Scott fiddles with frills on Hannah’s sock as he tries to wrap his mind around it. Everything’s happening so fast – he can’t keep up. It's like he jumped on a treadmill that was already running and now he's tripping over himself trying to match its pace.

"Well,” Tessa takes a deep breath and sets her coffee back down, trying to give him a cheerful smile that he knows neither of them really feels. “It’s both a reconnaissance tour and a vacation rolled into one. We’re going to do some sightseeing in each city, too, to see if it’s the kind of place I can see myself living someday. One week in Connecticut, one in Boston, and then one in Vancouver.”

“Saving the best for last, eh?” It comes out harsher than he’d intended, bitter and snarky, and Tessa flinches, her smile disappearing as quickly as it came. 

“Something like that. Vancouver has a really great school, Scott.” She’d picking at her own breakfast now, her voice quiet, but determined, and his internal organs turn to lead. It sounds like she’s already mostly made her mind up that Vancouver is the place for her. How is he going to survive it?

 _Be supportive, be supportive, be supportive!_ She’s his best friend, goddammit, and he needs to act like it – however much it may feel like he’s taking a cheese grater to his heart. “I’m sure it does.”

“You won gold in Vancouver.” She says it like that’s supposed to win him over and make all of this okay, and Scott snorts.

"I sure did.”

“We enjoyed our time there, remember?”

“I do. We had fun together.” _Emphasis on TOGETHER,_ he wants to scream. _Because together is what we should be. Now, forever, and always. Not separated by 4,300 kilometers and unspoken truths._

“And I have to think about my career, not just what’s convenient right now.”

“I understand.” And he does, he does understand. If he hadn’t been so lucky to be drafted by his first choice, he would have had to go to whichever team took him, so he understands being faced with the possibility of moving far away to further your career. He just hates the circumstances and he hates that he can’t seem to catch his breath long enough to think clearly about what the right choice is for him in this moment. The right thing to say.

“And, I mean, what’s keeping me in Toronto?” She fixes her eyes on him and waits like he’s supposed to give her the answer, but Scott kicks back from the table instead - his chair squeaking loudly on the hardwood floor in the process, nearly tipping over as he stands up and probably leaving marks, but he doesn’t care.

How could she ask him that? How could she say something so callous and unfeeling? Does their friendship mean nothing? Does she really care for him so little (leaving love out of it – even as friends!) that he doesn’t count as a reason she might consider staying here? He doesn’t want to sway her choice, but he was kind of expecting that he would, just a bit.

“Nothing, right?” He scoffs, settling Hannah into her stroller before pulling out his wallet and tossing a wad of cash onto the table. It’s probably ten times what their bill is, but he couldn’t care less right now. All he can think about is the fact that Tessa doesn’t think there’s anything worth staying in Toronto for.

“Scott, wait!” She jumps up out of her chair and rushes around the side of the table, nearly bashing her hip into the corner in her haste. “What are you –“

“I have to go.” He shakes her hand off his arm and brushes her aside. “I have to… go to the dentist.”

Tessa reaches for him again, her fingers wrapping around his wrist like a vise – trying to hold him there while she sort of shakes her head and plants her feet. “But it’s Sunday.”

“It’s an emergency appointment. I’ll call you later. Have a nice, trip, Virtch.” Scott shakes her off again and pushes Hannah’s stroller towards the door, desperate for some space. Which, coincidentally, is apparently what she wants, too, so she should be happy he’s leaving.

“Are you seriously leaving right now?” She grabs her purse and follows after him, ignoring the stares from the other café patrons and staying close by his side as they step out onto the busy street. “I think there’s been a horrible misunderstanding. This isn’t how I meant to tell you. I said it all wrong. I –“

“Look, Tessa,” He pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a deep breath before turning to face her. As hurt and upset as he is, he doesn’t want to guilt her into anything, and she deserves to choose the best school without an argument between them hanging over her head. _Be supportive!_ “I really do have to go, but I hope you have a nice vacation with Jordan.”

"Scott,” She grabs his hand and laces their fingers together, but for the first time her touch isn’t soothing. It just sets him more on edge – a poignant reminder of everything he might be about to lose. “I didn’t mean there wasn’t anything to keep me here, you know that right? I was hoping that – it doesn’t matter. The point is it was a stupid thing for me to say. I’m sorry.”

“Listen, T,” He sighs and gently releases her hand, ignoring the flash of pain he sees in her eyes when he does, “You have to do what’s right for you, okay? I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“Scott…” She folds her arms over her chest, tucking her hands underneath her arms for added comfort and protection, every bit of her body language telling him that she’s hurting. But he’s hurting, too, and he needs time to think.

“I’ll text you later, okay? We can do movie night on Wednesday before you leave – anything you want. And I'll ask Jeff to make that popcorn you like with the M&Ms mixed in.”

“I think we should talk about this.”

No. No talking until he knows what he’s going to say. Until he’s prepared to hear her tell him that she’s moving to Vancouver. If she says the words right now, it might kill him. He has to be prepared.

“We will when you get back, okay?”

She searches his face for a long time, her eyes roaming all over, before she lets out a shaky little sigh and nods. "Okay.”

“Bye, Virtch.”

"Goodbye, Scott.”

Every step he takes drives the knife deeper into his chest, hot, searing pain that makes his eyes water, but he forces himself to do it. Chiddy was right – Tessa needs to be free to make this decision on her own. The last thing Scott wants is for there to be resentment between them somewhere down the line because he influenced her decision or kept her from where she really wanted to be. So even though it hurts like hell, even though it feels like the sun has gone out of his life, he keeps walking away.

What’s that saying? _If you love someone, let them go._ He’s just going to have to pray that she decides to come back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter left, guys! We're almost there!


	16. i know who i want to take me home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.

** i know who i want to take me home **

****

The first thing Scott does when he gets home is head straight for his shower – tossing his bag and keys carelessly onto his bed as he passes by and kicking off his shoes in the direction of his closet without caring where they land. Only one thought on his mind after a grueling ten hour day: _get clean_. His t-shirt is sticking to the residual oil on his chest like he’d just run a half marathon and for all it smells like cinnamon it feels super gross and unnatural and he wants it gone.

He’d almost forgotten about the Calvin Klein shoot today. Had been busy making plans with a few of his teammates until the photographer had called him late last night to remind him of the location and that he’d promised to be there at eight a.m. on the dot. It took everything he had not to grunt and swear into the speaker and throw his phone across the room in response.

The temptation to feign illness and stay home had been almost too strong to resist, even though he doesn’t like backing out of commitments, and it had taken him five tries to get out of bed that morning – his body and mind dawdling as he got dressed and made coffee while Dorothy came over to watch Hannah.

To say he’s been lacking in motivation the past few weeks would be an understatement, but he’d find it hard to drum up enthusiasm for a photo shoot even if he was in the best mood in the world. 

They’ve been hounding him for years to do a modeling campaign with them, though – asking him to do shirts, pants, underwear, you name it – and Scott’s always said no. Even when other hockey players said yes and received hefty paychecks for their participation, he’d politely, but firmly, declined. It was only when Calvin Klein promised to donate all of the money they would have paid him to a charity of his choice that he’d finally agreed, and even then only at Tessa’s persistent encouragement.

(She’d always been very enthusiastic about the whole thing, but then, he knows her secret wish as a teenager had been to go into fashion, so he figures it was the chance to live out an old fantasy that appealed so much to her.)

Even now the knowledge that Kids Up Front Toronto is going to benefit from this embarrassing travesty is the only thing keeping Scott from calling the photographer back and telling him to burn all of the pictures that they took today.

The clothing ones aren’t too bad, he’ll admit. As awkward as he’d felt posing for the camera over and over and over, he hadn’t minded how they’d turned out and wasn’t too bothered about the idea of them showing up on billboards or mall posters – his image being used to sell denim button-down shirts or comfy hoodies isn’t the _worst_ thing ever. Some of them had even made him look good. “Heartthrob” Tessa would have said if she were there, teasing him like she does and helping boost his confidence. But then they’d had him start stripping piece by piece and that’s where it all fell apart.

He’d felt so ridiculous. Shirt unbuttoned and pants unzipped, then shirt and pants completely off. Dressing up (or down, as the case may be) in variations of increasingly revealing outfits until he was left in only a pair of boxer briefs that honestly felt a size too small (nobody seemed to notice or care about his complaints, though). Why anybody would want to buy a pair of underwear just because they saw him awkwardly reclining in a chair in front of window in them he has no idea, but everyone on set seemed to think it was the height of brilliance.

(Being praised for your ability to wear underwear is a new one for him, and exactly as awkward and strange as it sounds.)

He’d drawn the line at grabbing his crotch though. His family - his _mother -_ will see these photos and the last thing he wants is for her to be waiting in the check-out stand at some grocery store and see her son like that on the cover of a magazine. Or for one of his brothers to be shopping at the mall and see Scott half-naked on a poster clutching his family jewels. It’s humiliating enough as it is taking pictures in a thin pair of underwear with his arm shoved up his shirt (is that supposed to be sexy?) – the last thing he needs is his hand around his cock posted all over the internet.

He’d never hear the end of it.

Scott steps underneath the hot spray of his dual showerhead and gets to work scrubbing away the traces of the day and making sure to get all of the oil off his torso and thighs. Why they felt the need to lather him up in the shiny stuff, he doesn’t know, but he’d given up hope an hour into the shoot of understanding any of the methods to their madness. The only thing they’d left untouched was his hair – claiming that it had the perfect amount of wave and volume on its own and deserved to flow free – and Scott briefly thinks that Tessa will be pleased about that.

 _She always did like when I let it grow_.

Tessa. She’s been everywhere these days. Not literally, of course, given that she’s been in another country for the past two weeks, but mentally. Everywhere he looks he sees something that reminds him of her – in the books on Hannah’s bookshelf, in the flash of dark hair at the gym, in the blanket hanging over the back of his couch, in the leftovers in his fridge that should have been thrown out weeks ago but his own sentimentality refuses to part with, in his bed.

She was supposed to be there today. They’d had it on the calendar for months and she’d sworn repeatedly that she wouldn’t let him forget about it and that she’d come along for moral support. But, of course, she’s in Boston now – or in transit to Vancouver, he’s not sure what time her flight was – and busy planning out the course of her future. That takes precedence over some half-naked pictures and awkward smiles. No matter how much he might feel lost without her.

Thoughts of her bring a whole slew of temptations with them, temptations that the warm water and his own nakedness have him itching to indulge in, but he refrains – rinsing his hair as quickly as possible and turning the water as cold as he can stand it to keep himself in check. It doesn’t feel right – doing _that_. Not with the way they ended things two weeks ago. Not now that he knows what it’s like to really make love to her. Anything else feels shallow and cheap in comparison.

Scott shuts off the water and dries off, tugging on some clean underwear that actually belongs to him and whose brand he proudly doesn’t know before putting on his favorite plaid pajama pants and a white t-shirt and heading back out into the apartment to relieve Dorothy from her nanny duties. Resolutely putting any thoughts of his best friend and what she might currently be doing and if she’s thinking of him (and _oh god_ will the missing her ever get easier?) out of his head.

“How did the modeling go?” Dorothy looks up at him between a curtain of grey hair with a smile, her body bent over forwards so that she can hold both of Hannah’s hands as they walk around the apartment – his daughter’s tiny blonde pigtails bobbing around as they go. Hannah’s practically leaning forward at a forty-five degree angle in her eagerness to keep moving, her feet stomping awkwardly and without much coordination, and Dorothy laughs and lets herself be pulled along.

“It wasn’t modeling,” Scott insists, repeating the same argument he’d repeatedly given Chiddy and Jeff and Justin and his brothers, “It was a professional photo shoot for charity.”

“Oh I apologize. In my day we called posing for professional photo shoots modeling, but I know how you young people like to make up your own words for things.” Her voice is teasing, gentle mischief underlying each word, but Scott can’t think of a witty rejoinder to give her like he normally could.

“I’m not – never mind,” He waves her off, too tired both physically and emotionally to try and formulate a proper response, and heads for the coffee pot. It’s really too late in the evening to be drinking caffeine, but he needs something after the day he’s had and liquor would be a bad choice with Chiddy out for the night. He’d never risk getting inebriated without someone else around to look after Hannah. “How was she today?”

“Oh, the perfect angel, as always.” Dorothy smiles, scooping Hannah up in her arms and bringing her over to Scott for a proper hello. “As long as she’s allowed to explore, she’s very content.”

“I know.” Scott takes her and plants a solid kiss on her cheek, grinning when Hannah turns her head to kiss him back – all open-mouthed and sloppy in that way babies do. “It’s the second she feels caged in that she gets restless and difficult. My mom says that’s the Moir gene beginning to emerge.”

Dorothy hums and nods in understanding. “I do believe our children give us a dose of the same medicine that we gave our own parents. It’s karma at work.”

“Well then I’m in for a lifetime of trouble, no doubt. I was a rascal as a little boy.” Hannah lays her head on his shoulder as if she’s trying to prove him wrong and butter him up, and Scott smiles and snuggles into her. Hopefully whatever genes she got from her mom will help counterbalance his own in that way. And maybe, a treacherous part of him thinks, Tessa will be here to influence her as well.

(His brain briefly plagues him with images of Tessa teaching her to read and helping her do her homework and the three of them cuddled up on the couch watching some documentary that makes him sleepy but commands their undivided attention. _Stupid wishful thinking._ )

“And you’re not as a man?” Dorothy stops putting her belongings back into her purse to fix him with a look, and he laughs.

“No, now I’m even worse.” 

Dorothy laughs and gathers up the rest of her things, giving Hannah a kiss on the head before turning towards the door. “Goodbye, Scott. I look forward to seeing you next time I’m shopping at the mall.” She winks and Scott holds back the groan he desperately wants to let free and waves goodbye. Add one more person to the list of people he didn’t ever want to see him half-dressed.

God, what was he _thinking_?

Oh fuck – someday Hannah will probably Google him or one of her friends will and those pictures are going to show up and _shit_. That’s it, he’s calling the photographer first thing in the morning and pulling the shoot. They’ll just have to find another sucker to pose half-naked for them – it isn’t going to be Scott Moir.

After dinner and bath time he settles down in the rocking chair with Hannah and a stack of books to read. Strictly speaking, he knows that babies need a routine and that deviating from that can be hard for them, but he’s feeling a little melancholy tonight and could use the extra time with his daughter and the coffee he drank is making him feel all twitchy and in need of a mellow distraction. Besides, reading to your kids is a good thing, so really – how bad could it be so keep her up a little later than normal?

“Right, Hannah-banana? We need a little daddy-daughter bonding time.” He presses a kiss to her forehead and reaches for the first book in the pile, flipping it open and holding it in her lap so that she can scratch at the pages and look at the pictures. “One evening, after thinking it over for some time, Harold decided to go for a walk in the moonlight. There wasn’t any moon, and Harold needed a moon for a walk in the moonlight, and he needed something to walk on. He made a long, straight path, so he wouldn’t get lost, and he set off on his walk – taking his big purple crayon with him...”

They read book after book. Until Hannah’s fallen asleep in the crook of his arm, her stuffed dragon dangling precariously from her hand, and Scott’s voice has trailed off – his own eyes droopy and his head flopping forward. There’s no trace of the sunset left in the sky, just milky blackness and a few stars peeking out between the low-hanging clouds.

With a groan, Scott sets the last book aside before it can clatter to the floor and wake up Hannah and stands up from the chair – wincing when it hits the wall with a bang as it rocks backwards from the momentum. He waits for a moment, but Hannah doesn’t stir so he gently lays her down in her crib and tucks the blanket in around her shoulders before closing the curtains and heading eagerly towards his own bed. 

Once he’s in his room he double-checks that the baby monitor is on, flips off the light, then collapses onto his bed like an exhausted starfish – his limbs splayed out to the side and his head landing heavily on one of the pillows. Utterly exhausted.

As tired as he is though, he knows he won’t get much sleep tonight. Just like he hasn’t gotten much sleep any night for these past two weeks. Not since that Sunday he and Tessa fought and she left town. Instead his nights have been spent replaying their conversation over and over in his head, wondering where it went wrong and what he should have said instead and wishing he knew what the right path for both of them was.

And when he finally does fall asleep, there’s no relief to be found in his dreams. Sometimes they’re soft, tender, romantic dreams about Tessa that fill him with so much longing he wakes with the ache of it, but more often than not they’re darker. Dreams where she’s walking away, leaving him behind as she goes on to brighter, more brilliant futures – sometimes holding the hand of other, faceless hockey players. Those dreams are the worst because when he wakes up he can’t even find it in himself to be mad at her for it.

They’ve talked since that day, because of course they have – they’re _them._ There’s been texting and phone calls and the occasional FaceTime so that she can say hello to Hannah. It would be unnatural to go longer than a few days without speaking unless they’re in a fight, which they technically aren’t right now. But it’s not the same. There’s a gap between them these days that Scott doesn’t know how to cross. A silence that’s heavy with unspoken words and fills every pause with the weight of will-she-won’t-she.

They don’t talk about it – her decision. Not the pros and cons lists she’s undoubtedly compiling, not the things she likes or hates about each school, and definitely not whether or not she knows what her answer will be regarding which one she’ll attend. Instead they avoid the topic altogether – him refusing to ask out of fear that he won’t like her answers, and her apparently unwilling to bring it up first – letting the metaphorical elephant in the room grow bigger and bigger with each passing day.

It’s going to sit on them eventually, crushing them under its weight (okay, so the metaphor is a little loose – cut him some slack), and they’re going to have to talk this through at some point lest it does irreparable damage to their friendship. But he can’t bring himself to do it, especially not over the phone. Even though Friend-Scott keeps yelling things like _be supportive_ and _say nice things_ and _encourage her_ at In-Love-Scott every time they speak.

His phone screen lights up on the bed beside him and Scott glances at it to find Tessa’s face smiling brightly back at him – a selfie she’d taken using his phone five years ago that he hasn’t ever bothered to update - as if summoned by his thoughts. He hesitates for a moment, debating whether or not he has the mental stamina to answer right now, but in the end the desire to hear her voice wins. Sliding the button to the right, he sucks in a deep breath and lifts the phone to his ear. “Hey, Virtch, how’s Vancouver? Did you and Jordan get in alright?”

“It’s raining.” She groans loudly into the speaker by way of answering and he can hear a noise in the background as if she’s flopping onto her own bed in her hotel room, the utter disappointment in her voice making him chuckle in spite of himself.

“It’s Vancouver,” He replies knowingly, nodding at the dark ceiling and remembering how often they’d gotten drenched when they were there during the Olympics so many years ago, and Tessa laughs. The sound soothes some of the ache in his chest, while magnifying it at the same time, and Scott rubs over the spot on his sternum. God how he loves her laugh. Loves being the one to draw it out of her.

“I know, but still. It put a serious damper on our plans to take a stroll around Stanley Park this afternoon. Remember that great big tree by the lighthouse? I was really hoping to show it to Jordan. Even though she kept saying it was ‘ _just a tree_ ’ and not worth our precious time.” 

He can see her making air quotes with her fingers as clearly as if she were in the room with him, and he snorts. “To her it would be just a tree. Only you and I think it’s special, T.”

“That’s because it _is_ special,” She insists matter-of-factly, her tone offering no room for argument, “That tree has magical properties.”

He doesn’t disagree with her, that tree is sacrosanct, but he pushes back anyway. “I like to think our team won gold at the Games through hard work and talent.”

She makes a tsking noise with her tongue, probably shaking her head as well. “And some help from a wishing tree. Don’t get all practical and down-to-earth on me now, Moir, you fully believed it back then.”

“I’d more likely believe it was _you_ working some sort of magic, than an inanimate plant.” If he were a betting man – strike that – he _is_ a betting man, so he knows without a doubt that the best thing to bet on, plant, animal, or human, is Tessa Virtue. She deserves her own motto: where there’s a Tessa, there’s a way.

Someday if they prove that sheer force of will can win gold medals, he wouldn’t be surprised if they traced the discovery back to her and the Vancouver Olympic Games and her unwavering belief in a twenty-two year old rookie.

“You know the wish we made under that tree and the leaf we tucked into your jersey helped.”

The leaf that had stayed in his gym bag until it was nothing more than crumbs? Nah.

(Yes.)

He’s smiling now, his first genuine smile in weeks that isn’t because of Hannah, and he has to force himself to sound solemn and sincere when he says, “I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable psychological explanation behind it.”

Tessa snorts, not buying it for a second. “Just admit the tree is magic, Scott.”

“Did _your_ wish ever come true?” He’s curious where her secret plea ended up eight years later. When they’d held hands around that tree like children and screwed their eyes shut tight and sent wishes out into the universe, Tessa had insisted they had to be secret otherwise they wouldn’t come true (even though his wish was rather obvious), but he’s always wondered just what her twenty year old heart desired most.

Good grades on her mid-terms?

She goes quiet for a second, then says, “Sort of… there’s still time.”

Interesting. Maybe her wish was related to graduating law school. Leave it to Tessa to play the long-game when it comes to making wishes and superstitions.

“Well if it does come true then I will admit your superstitions about the magical tree might hold some weight, but until then…” He lets his voice trail off, lilting up at the end to purposely goad her a bit more, and Tessa plays right into it – huffing in annoyance.

“You’re no fun when you’re tired. And don’t try to deny it – I can tell by your voice that you haven’t been sleeping.”

“I’m not going to deny it.”

He can sense the shift in her demeanor immediately, even all the way across the country. The way her breath hitches and her voice softens and becomes more serious. Concern practically flooding through the speaker. “What’s wrong? Anything I can help with?”

 _Yes_ … and no. It’s not her fault he’s in love with her (except… it kind of is? She’s the one who has to be so amazing all the time), but he wouldn’t complain if she would show some mercy and put him out of his misery regarding law school.

“Just a lot on my mind. What did you do today instead of the park?” It’s an obvious sidestep, but Tessa lets him take it anyway when she hears his jaw-cracking yawn.

“You know… not much. Took a tour and met some people. Had some nice chats.” That’s code for _toured the school, met a few of my potential professors and liked them,_ but Scott knows she won’t admit that. It’s been the same script for the past two weeks and undoubtedly he’ll hear it a few more times before she comes home. “Oh! Speaking of psychology - you’ll never believe who I had dinner with tonight.”

“Oh yeah?” He yawns again, wondering if it would be weird to ask her to tell him a bedtime story to see if that would finally bring him a modicum of relief. “Who?”

“Simon Brody!”

Sleep is suddenly the last thing on his mind, and Scott sits up a little higher on the headboard so that he can re-focus on the conversation, zeroing in on her words. “As in your ex-boyfriend Simon Brody?”

“Yep! He’s attending the university here and we ran into each other on campus – isn’t that a happy coincidence?” _Yeah, so happy. He’s thrilled_. “He’s just started earning his doctorate in behavioral neuroscience. I can’t believe how far he’s come since our psych classes together at Queen’s. I’m really impressed. I mean, he told me about his classes and his research and it sounds so complicated, but really fascinating, too. I can’t wait to see what he does with it.”

Is his what a surprise heart-attack feels like? Because his jaw is aching in a way that’s entirely new and awful. “I didn’t know you two were still friends.”

“Well,” There’s a sound like she’s rolling over onto her stomach and shoving the pillow underneath her head for support – a position he saw her take often on long phone calls with Jordan – and _when_ did he memorize her _sounds_? “We weren’t friends after the breakup, obviously, but that was a long time ago and it was nice to see a familiar face today. He’s going to give me and Jordan a proper tour of the campus tomorrow, so that will be great. It really helps to see things from a student’s perspective.”

“Sure. Did Jordan get dinner with you guys, too, or was it just a duo thing?”

Is he being too obvious? It feels like he’s being too obvious. Nobody calls dinner a _duo-thing._ Nobody sane, that is. But he can’t help it. Something about her going out to dinner with her ex-boyfriend rubs him the wrong way. Triggering his protective tendencies over his best friend.

(Okay, not something – it’s jealousy. He’s jealous. And apparently possessive. _Great._ )

"No, she has other friends out here so it was just us tonight. It was nice to catch up with Simon, though, so I didn’t mind being alone with him. He’s so much more mature now than he was back then.”

A bolt of irritation flashes through him fire-hot and vicious, unleashing his inner snark. “That’s impressive. Did he get a personality transplant or –“

“Scott,” Tessa chastises, cutting him off before he can say something truly dickish, “Don’t be rude. You liked Simon, remember?”

“Did I?” That doesn’t seem right. He’s pretty sure he’s always hated him. All he can think about is how Tessa had bought that leather Catwoman suit she’d worn on Halloween at Simon’s request and that she’d once called him _limber_.

Gross. Gross. Gross.

“Yes,” She huffs, probably blowing hair out of her face, “You did.”

“Huh. Well we all had bad judgment when we were younger.” He waves his hand in the darkness, imagining himself brushing away Simon like he’s a ghost or the residue from one of those smelly fog machines they always had at his high school dances.

“ _Scott –“_ Tessa sighs, not nearly as amused by his behavior as he is, and he tries to feel guilty, but fails. Serves Simon right for… _existing_ in a place that Scott doesn’t. (And for the record, Scott can be pretty bendy too, _just saying_.) “Anyway, Mr. Grumpty-pants,” Tessa grumbles, readjusting to get comfortable again, “What were you up to today?”

“I had that Calvin Klein thing.” He groans at the memory and rolls over to bury his face into the pillows. Breathing in deeply to try and catch the faint scent of her that he hasn’t been able to bring himself to wash away yet.

“That’s right!” He can tell she sat up, because her voice is much louder – although maybe that’s the combination of panic and guilt. “I totally forgot! I’m so sorry! I feel terrible that I couldn’t be there like I promised. How did it go?”

“Awful.” His voice is muffled by the pillow and she has to ask him to repeat himself before she can understand the utter misery he’s trying to convey.

“I doubt it was that bad.”

“It was, Virtch,” Scott insists, rolling onto his back again. His pillows only smell like him now and it’s fucking depressing. “I felt so stiff and awkward the whole day and it lasted _forever_. I thought they’d only take like five pictures, not five hundred. I was lead there under false pretenses!”

Tessa laughs at his over-dramatic antics, giggling into the speaker as she says, “I’m sure it was much better than you thought it was. You just find it hard to take pictures without making a goofy face. Or attempting the Blue Steel.”

"That’s true,” He agrees with a shrug and Tessa laughs again, “If they’d let me be myself it wouldn’t have been so bad, but they kept throwing around words like sexy and seductive and tantalizing and _provocative_ – none of which are words that actually applied in this scenario, by the way - while putting me in all sorts of ridiculous poses and covering me in oil to make my muscles shiny. I felt like a slippery naked rag doll, T.”

She makes a funny noise that sounds like she might be choking, but covers it up with an awkward giggle. “You were naked?”

“Well, no, not completely.” He switches his phone to the other ear and runs his hand through his hair. “But I might as well have been.”

“Scott…” Tessa audibly exhales, taking her time choosing her next words and setting him on edge, “You are a very attractive man. I highly doubt the pictures made you look like a rag doll or were in any way ridiculous. I bet you looked very… what was the word again?”

"Tantalizing?”

“That’s it. I bet you looked very tantalizing.” She sounds sure of herself and her opinion, which means she must not understand how drastically uncomfortable it really was. If she knew the truth her expectations would be at rock bottom.

“I’ll send you one, then you can see for yourself.” He moves his phone away from his ear so that he can flick through the few sample photos that they sent him after he left, selecting the one with the most clothes on so that he doesn’t accidentally scar her for life, although it still has him with his shirt hanging unbuttoned and his pants unzipped and gaping open. At least it’s not the one where he’s got his thumb looped in the waistband of his underwear and is tugging it down. “There, now you understand.”

Tessa’s quiet for a minute or two, long enough that he begins to wonder if she didn’t receive it or if she’d fallen asleep in the short amount of time it took to send, but she finally clears her throat and squeaks, “It’s not so bad.”

“Not so bad?” He snorts. “You’re too kind. I don’t even know what to call that face. Upset stomach, maybe?”

She laughs and he can almost hear her biting her lip. “That’s not what I would call it.”

“What then?” Perhaps a natural disaster in human form. Or what rotten cottage cheese would look like if it had a face.

Okay, maybe he’s being a bit hard on himself, but it’s hard to be objective when all you could think about during the picture was how hungry you were and how much you’d rather be lying on a bed of nails than posing for the hundredth time.

“Um… sexy seems right.” It might be a trick of the speaker, but her voice seems raspy and so much lower than normal as it wraps around that adjective. “I think your photographer did a good job. Like, a really good job.” She clears her throat, taking on a more professional tone. “The angles are really flattering and the way they’ve made use of the lighting is a stroke of genius.”

“Please, it’s not sexy.” He's feeling a little more confident though, hoping to hear more of her thoughts, even if he doesn’t agree with her. 

“You’ve always been your own harshest critic. I promise most of the women in Canada will think you’re hot when they see it. You’ll convert a whole bunch of people to becoming hockey fans the instant they walk into a mall, just to catch another glimpse of you. Think of all the happy Canadian marriages you’ll contribute to!” She laughs and he chuckles along with her, shaking his head at the same time.

“Don’t tease me, Virtch. Look – I’ll send you another one and you’ll see what I mean.” He bites the bullet and sends the underwear picture, already anticipating her laugh and preparing for the humiliation to follow. It’s one of the most risqué ones they took today, showing off enough of his V that another centimeter lower and it would be pornographic, and he just knows she’s going to find it hilarious. “Nobody in real life poses like this. It looks so fake.”

There’s a strange noise followed by a bunch of static sounds, like she’d dropped her phone and the blankets are rubbing against the speakers, before she pops back up again – this time sounding breathy in a way that has certain parts of him perking up with interest. “You can tell that it’s staged, obviously, but that’s not, you know, a _bad_ thing.”

“Yeah, right.”

“It’s not,” She insists, “I think I might go buy some Calvin Klein underwear tomorrow. You’ve convinced me. I’ll be the first victim of your new ad campaign.”

Scott laughs and scratches idly across his stomach underneath his shirt, wondering if it would be inappropriate to send her a few more – just for scientific analysis, of course. “Now you’re just mocking me.”

“I’m not, seriously!” She sucks in a deep breath and then blurts out, “You look really hot, okay? Really, really hot. You don’t have to be embarrassed about it.”

That brings him up short. She sounds so earnest and heartfelt and maybe a little bit shy, and suddenly he realizes that there’s a possibility she’s _into_ these new photos of him. “I do?”

“Yes. I…” She swallows thickly, and Scott waits with bated breath. “I wouldn’t complain if you wanted to send me more.”

Oh.

Oh shit.

She IS into it. She likes the pictures. _Really_ likes them, if her reaction is anything to go by. What he wouldn’t give to have her here in the room with him so that he could read her expressions and body language and fully gauge her response. Maybe… maybe she likes them enough to flirt a little.

“That doesn’t seem fair,” He speaks slowly, playing along, barely dipping his toes in the water to see how she’ll react, “I’ve sent you two already.”

Tessa makes a quiet noise. “I don’t have any pictures like that to trade.”

“I find that hard to believe.” She’s way too gorgeous not to have taken a few pictures of herself over the years. More than a few, he’d guess (see: hope). A body like hers deserves to be immortalized. _Often_. 

"Not anything professional,” She confesses, and Scott smirks.

He knew it.

“I couldn’t care less whether it’s professional or not. In fact, I think I prefer knowing you didn’t have a whole crew contributing to the process.” He likes the idea of her, alone, snapping pictures of herself for her own enjoyment (he refuses to consider the possibility they were ever for somebody else. That’s just – no.) Better yet, he likes the idea of her by herself taking private pictures for _him_. That’s so much better than anything super polished and posed could ever be.

“You really want a picture of me?” She asks. He can tell she has doubts about it, but he can also hear a sort of eagerness lacing the question, emphasized especially on the word _me_ , and Scott nods fervently at his dark bedroom.

“Yes, if you’re comfortable sending it. You know how it goes – tit for tat.”

She giggles at his bad joke, making him grin. “You don’t have any tats to trade for my tits, though.” 

He snorts and rolls his eyes. “Don’t be so literal, Virtch. I’ll trade you two more of mine if you send me one of yours. That’s four for one!”

“You’re a terrible negotiator, you know.” 

“I am _trying_ to be _nice_ –“ His phone pings, cutting off his retort, and Scott lifts it away to find an incoming image from her. When he clicks on it his jaw goes slack. She’s in bed, surrounded by a fluffy white comforter, her dark hair framing her head like a halo, completely devoid of any clothing. Her whole upper body exposed to him and a coy smile teasing the corners of her mouth. “Shit, Tess, did you already have that or did you just take it?”

“I just took it. Did it turn out okay?”

There’s a confidence there, like she already knows it did, that he finds wildly attractive, and his pants grow a little tighter. “Okay? Jesus.” She giggles, proud of herself, and he stares at the picture again – palming himself through his pajama pants. “You definitely don’t need a professional team to look sexy.”

“Neither do you,” She responds quickly, and he laughs, shaking his head in disbelief at the unexpected turn in their conversation. This is definitely not where he saw his night ending up. Maybe that stupid photo shoot hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.

“Thank you?” She laughs again and he grins at the ceiling, feeling lighter than he has in a long time. “I think you owe me two more now. That was the deal.”

“I’d hate to back out on a deal with my lawyer.”

“Yes, I might press charges.”

Grinning, he sends two more. They don’t seem all that remarkable to him, given that she’s already seen everything revealed in these photos up close and personal, but she sucks in a sharp breath when she receives them that gives herself away.

"Do I get another one of you now?” He asks, hoping he doesn’t sound as much like an overeager teenager as he thinks he does.

“Sure, um – hang on.”

There’s some scuffling followed by a thump and a muttered curse, before his phone pings two more times. This time with pictures of Tessa posing in front of an ornate mirror, completely naked except for the thin bit of white lace she calls underwear.

It might cost him his deal if he said it out loud, but it’s so much better than anything Calvin Klein sells.

“Fuck, Tess,” He palms himself again, trying not to give into the urge to slip his hand inside his pants and get himself off for real. This is new for them, and he has no idea if she’d be okay with that. Would it feel like he was using her? Her words about what happened in Pyeongchang still haunt him and he doesn’t want to do anything that would risk her feeling like that again.

“Good?” She asks breathlessly, and he almost snorts at how absurd it is that she even feels the need to ask.

“ _Fantastic,”_ He confirms, shoving his right hand underneath his back to keep himself restrained. The thought occurring to him that she might not be totally alone – her sister could be in the bathroom or in the hallway, just a thin barrier away. “But if you’re in your hotel room, er, dressed like that… Where’s Jordan?”

“She’s still out with those same friends from dinner earlier. Probably won’t be back for another hour or two.” She hesitates, and then takes the plunge, “We have… time, if you want to.”

His heart starts thundering inside his ribcage, so loudly he’s shocked she can’t hear it. “Time?”

“Yeah. For – you know – stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?” He’s being purposely obtuse and he knows it, but it would feel too presumptuous to say the words outright.

“Phone sex, Scott,” She states bluntly, already fed up with skirting around the issue and taking him by surprise, “I’m trying to initiate phone sex with you.”

"Doesn’t that break our pinky promise to only have sex one time?” Fuck _why_ is he sabotaging this for himself? The woman he loves wants to have phone sex with him – he should be jumping at the chance.

But that’s the problem. She’s the woman he loves and he doesn’t want casual with her anymore. Probably never did, if he’s being totally honest. He wants so much more than that. And now that he knows what it’s like to have sex with her with all of the emotions behind it, he doesn’t want to have a meaningless fuck over the phone that they both pretend didn’t happen tomorrow.

Not unless she happens to say I love you first, of course, and that seems highly unlikely.

“It doesn’t count if it’s phone sex.” Tessa argues, and Scott sighs, disappointment lancing through his chest like a hot knife.

“It counts, Virtch. It all counts.”

They’re both silent as his words sink in, and Scott’s torn between apologizing (for what, he’s not sure) and shoving his head underneath his pillow and suffocating himself to death. That seems like a less painful alternative to the slow agony of not knowing what she’s thinking.

Finally, Tessa clears her throat and says, “So you’re saying no?”

She sounds just as let down as he feels, and it takes every ounce of his willpower not to change his mind and give in. “I’m saying… not right now.”

“But you haven’t been sleeping. An orgasm would help.”

He snorts under his breath and shakes his head, sighing into the phone. Of course she’s trying to take care of him – that’s what she does. But it wouldn’t be fair to either of them to have sex right now, in whatever form it might be. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m not sure phone sex is the answer.”

“Do you really not want to – ever again?”

 _God no_ , he wants to shout, _I want you now, in an hour, tomorrow, next week, always and forever._ Instead he lets Friend-Scott take over and shove In-Love-Scott back into his box where he belongs. “What I want is for you to focus on your future right now. When you get home and you’ve made a decision and you know what _you_ want, then we can revisit the topic of phone sex.”

“I –“ She hesitates, and for a second he thinks she might continue arguing with him, but then she quietly says, “Okay.”

He sighs and caresses the sheets next to him as if, if he just searches long enough, he can find her hand there. Wishing that magic were real and she could feel him reaching for her from across Canada. “I miss you, Tess.”

Her reply is instantaneous and eases some of the pain in his chest. “I miss you, too, so much.” 

“I want – I can’t wait – I’ll be happy to see you, when you come back home.” _There_ , he nods to himself, _that sounded suitably platonic._

“Me too.”

“You’ll still be back in time for Hannah’s birthday party, right?” He can’t imagine having it without her there, and he breathes a sigh of relief when she replies in the affirmative and he can hear the smile in her voice.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Goodnight, Scott.”

“Goodnight.”

He can’t bring himself to hang up, to sever the connection, so he lets his phone fall onto the mattress beside his pillow. Its light fading and battery slowly dying as the call continues well past the moment he falls asleep.

****

It’s a gorgeous June day in Ilderton. The weather couldn’t be better if Scott had placed an order with God himself. Azure blue stretches across the sky from one horizon to the next without a single cloud in sight and the breeze tickling his cheek is mild – nothing too strong that might potentially knock down the signs he’s put up or whip the balloons stationed around his parent’s backyard into a fury. Everything is turning out exactly right for Hannah’s first birthday.

He’d decided on a _Where the Wild Things Are_ theme in honor of the first book he’d bought her seven months ago (can it really only be seven?), and he’s feeling pretty confident about that choice now as he stands on the back porch with his hands on his hips surveying the large yard – a gold crown slipping sideways on his head.

Enlisting the help of his brothers and sisters-in-law and parents, they’d pulled out all the stops. Scott’s erected practically an entire forest of fake trees strong enough to swing on as well as an inflatable pond for sail boat races. There’s a basket of gold crowns matching his (one hundred percent book accurate – nothing less) for the kids to wear next to a big box of costumes, plenty of decorations, and his mom had made all of the food and cupcakes and the most adorable big-girl cake for Hannah – insisting that it was her right as her grandmother and refusing to let him order anything from a professional. It’s everything they need for their very own Wild Rumpus.

"Scotty,” Danny steps out onto the porch and claps him on the back, his apple crunching loudly as he takes a big bite, “I gotta say, as your brother I’m impressed and as an uncle I’m thrilled, but as a father I’m royally pissed.”

Scott shoves his brother’s hand away with an obligatory, “Don’t call me that,” even though they both know that, after thirty years of habit and a self-appointed right as the oldest child to call his little brothers whatever he wants, Danny isn’t going to be stopping any time soon. “Why are you pissed?”

“You’re making me and Charlie look bad, man!” Danny gestures broadly towards the backyard, and Scott smirks – puffing his chest out a little. It _is_ pretty amazing. “All I’m gonna hear from my kids for the next month is that Uncle Scott throws the best parties and endless whining about why they don’t get elaborate, over-the-top events thrown in their honor every year.”

“Don’t blame me because you’re a bad dad,” Scott teases, shrugging innocently and laughing when Danny tries to push him off the porch – nearly falling onto the grass and only saving himself by grabbing the railing at the last second. When they were kids a move like that would have ended with a mouthful of dirt and an intense wrestling match, and if Charlie weren’t inside somewhere right now, it still would.

"I’m just warning you that this sets a dangerous precedent.” Danny ducks, easily dodging the watermelon cube Scott throws at him. “By the time Hannah’s sixteen you’re going to be buying her private islands and one-on-one meet-and-greets with her favorite boy band.”

“I’m offended,” Scott scoffs, pausing with his handful of weaponized watermelon mid-throw to glare at his brother. How dare he say such a horrible thing!?

“About the fact that you’re too over-the-top?”

"No,” Scott shakes his head and pops a few pieces of the watermelon into his mouth instead of throwing them, tossing the rest at Danny so that he can eat some, too, “That you think my daughter will be into boy bands. She’s going to have _taste_.”

"So she won’t be listening to any of your music then.”

Scott whirls around to find Tessa grinning playfully at him, her arms full of presents wrapped in white wrapping paper with gold bows on top (leave it to Tess to be so on theme), and his whole body runs hot and then cold and then hot again in intense flashes. He’s never been happier to see her in his whole life, or more terrified.

She looks amazing. Even dressed in a simple white t-shirt tucked into a short black skirt, she’s still the prettiest woman he’s ever seen. A sight for sore eyes. In fact, he’d say she’s never looked more beautiful than she has at this exact moment, but that might be his own bias and the fact that looking at her is like a dying man finding an oasis in the desert. She was only gone three weeks, but even so his memories didn’t do her justice. Except – “Where did your hair go?”

"I cut it.” She smiles, balancing the gifts in one hand so that she can tug at the short, dark strands. It’s at least half as long as it was when she left, perhaps shorter, and he can’t stops staring at the blunt ends where they brush against her shoulders. “What do you think?” She flicks her head so that the artfully styled waves swish and bounce, and Scott finds himself stepping closer so that he can reach out and touch it – taking the silky strands between his fingers and examining the length for himself.

“It’s different.” Her face falls and he rushes to reassure her, “Good different! I like it! It’s just going to take some getting used to. You haven’t had your hair this short in like a decade.”

“It’s way different,” She agrees, side-stepping around him so that she can place her boxes down on the table set aside for gifts, taking a second to arrange them _just so_ before turning back to face him, “But I love it. I walked past this cute little salon in Vancouver and was feeling bold so I thought, why not? I was in the mood to try something new.”

He swallows around the sudden lump in this throat, wondering if the urge to try new things also included the Allard School of Law or a certain scrawny ex-boyfriend with nerdy fetishes. “Mix things up a little?”

“Exactly. Sometimes change can be a good thing.” She gives him a pointed look that he can’t possibly begin to decipher before turning to greet his brother with a warm hug. “Hey, Danny. It’s lovely to see you.”

Did that look mean that she’s made her decision and is trying to break the news to him gently through coded language and hints? Because if so, he’d much rather she just come right out and say it. He’s desperate to know if she’ll be leaving or not, even though he has no idea what he’ll do either way.

He's also a little worried that if she picks the University of Toronto he might propose to her on the spot.

“Hey, Tutu, nice haircut.” Danny ruffles her hair like he used to do when they were kids and Tessa laughs and pushes his hand away, dodging him with an easy familiarity that makes Scott’s heart flip-over inside his chest.

 _It would be so easy,_ he thinks, smiling at their antics, _so easy for her to become a permanent part of my family_. She’s practically an honorary member at this point, anyway.

"Thanks. You, too.” She points towards the shaggy mane that Danny’s hair has become with a laugh and Scott joins in, pulling himself out of his wayward thoughts and forcing himself to be present in the conversation. Tessa will tell him when she’s ready – he doesn’t want to pressure her.

“You try finding time for a trim between working and raising two kids!” Danny runs his hand through his scraggly hair defensively before pointing an accusing finger at Scott. “Besides, Scott’s hair is getting out of control, too. What’s your excuse there, Tess? You’re supposed to be keeping him in line over there in Toronto.”

“Oh, I’ve given up trying to figure out what Scott’s thinking,” Tessa laughs lightly, “I just let him do what he wants and try to go with the flow.”

“Okay, first of all,” Scott starts, folding his arms over his chest and widening his stance, “I don’t need a babysitter - I’m two years _older_ than Tess –“

“A year and a half,” Danny interrupts, correcting him before Tessa can and winking at her in solidarity, “And we both know she’s way more mature than you, little brother.”

Scott rolls his eyes, ignoring it when Tessa elbows him in the ribs, “ _Second_ of all that’s a total lie. She likes the flow, she just doesn’t want to admit it.”

She sticks her nose high in the air and shoves her thumbs into the pockets of her skirt, feigning disinterest. “It doesn’t matter to me what you do with it. I am completely indifferent towards the length of your hair.”

“Ha! You wish. I bet you want to touch it so bad right now.” He tilts his head towards her, shaking it a little to taunt her. His “superman curl,” as she calls it, falling onto his forehead and the rest of it flopping around with an amount of volume anyone would be jealous of. “Go on, Virtch, grab a handful. I know you want to.”

“I do not!” She protests, her cheeks flaming red and her eyes flickering towards his hairline, giving her away even as she pretends to shove him, and Scott throws his head back and laughs.

He almost asks her if the reason she won’t do it is because these aren’t the right circumstances – if she’d rather he were kneeling in front of her first – the innuendo coming to him naturally, but thankfully Danny speaks before Scott can embarrass both of them and reveal just how much things have changed in the past few months.

“You guys are so weird.” Danny huffs, staring at them strangely, and Scott jerks away from Tessa as if he’s been burned. Putting a few extra feet of space between them as he remembers where he is and the situation they’re in and the current messiness in their relationship.

And the fact that he probably shouldn’t be flirting with her in front of his brother. That, too. The last thing they need is their family interrogating them about the nature of their relationship before they have a chance to figure it out themselves first.

“We’ve always been weird,” Tessa jokes, picking a grape up out of the bowl on the table and putting it in her mouth while avoiding eye contact with either of them. 

“Speak for yourself,” Scott shoots back, but it falls flat. That same tension from their Sunday brunch has returned and he can’t blame Danny for the way he shrugs awkwardly and quickly retreats back inside the house. Scott would do the same if it weren’t for the fact that he doesn’t think he’s physically capable of leaving Tessa’s side right now, no matter how uneasy he feels.

It’s quiet for a few minutes, Tessa munching on a couple more grapes while Scott gnaws on a cheese cube – selecting it more for the toothpick to chew on than anything else - and together they watch the gold balloons bobbing and bumping up against each other in the breeze.

“So…” She finally says, turning to face him. He notices her nails scratching paint chips off the porch railing, but doesn’t say anything. It’s old and due for a new coat, anyway, and he can hardly blame her for her nervous habits when he’s practically chewing on splinters at this point. “Do I get a proper welcome home and a hug hello?” Tessa holds her arms out to the side in open invitation, and Scott sucks in a deep breath before nodding and stepping into her embrace.

He fully intends for it to be brief. A quick squeeze and then he’ll step away and put a safe amount of distance between them again before he’s tempted to do anything rash. But the second her body is pressed against is all of his resolve flies out the window and he sinks into her, tucking his face into the crook of her neck and breathing in deep. Inhaling the comforting scent of her strawberry shampoo and her lotion and something that’s just _Tessa._

 _Home_. She’s home. And he feels whole again.

“Welcome home, T,” He murmurs, lips moving against her skin in not-quite a caress, and she shivers and grips him tighter – her hands clenching around the fabric of his t-shirt, “I’m glad you made it back to us.” _To me_.

She hums and presses more of her body against his, until they’re practically glued together from their chests to their knees. “There’s no place I’d rather be. Especially today.”

He nods, some of his nerves settling when she says those words. It’s reassuring that she feels that way, even if it’s only today. “Hannah will be thrilled to see you.”

“She probably didn’t even notice I was gone.” Tessa huffs out a self-deprecating laugh into his ear, her breath ghosting across his neck, and Scott shakes his head and holds onto her even tighter – until he can feel their breathing naturally syncing up.

“No, she did. She refused to eat any vegetables while you were gone and I _know_ that’s because you weren’t here to do the airplane thing.” 

She puts her hands on his shoulders and pushes him away so that she can look him in the eyes, arching one of her eyebrows and cocking her head with a teasing smile. “Because you’re incapable of pretending her spoon is an airplane? Please, it’s because you let her get away with saying no. I’m afraid to hear what you fed her instead.”

Scott grins and taps his fingers against her ribcage, making her squirm in his arms. “Are you saying you of all people are discouraging a diet consisting entirely of chocolate?”

She laughs and then sighs, leaning back into him and tucking her head underneath his chin. “I missed you so much.”

“Me, too, Virtch.” It’s the perfect moment to ask her. They’re alone, things are feeling okay, and the conversation is running smoothly. All he has to do is be brave and get the words out and then he’ll finally know the answer to the question that’s been plaguing him. “Did you have a favorite… place that you visited?”

_Just say school, you idiot!_ He screams at himself, frustrated with his own inability to follow through on such a simple task. _Ask her!_

“I did.” She steps away and nods slowly, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, her hands loosening their grip on his t-shirt and falling away back by her side. “Actually, I was hoping to have a second to tell you –“’

“Hey guys!” Chiddy pushes the sliding door open and steps out onto the porch, forcing Scott and Tessa to end their conversation prematurely and turn to face him.

The first thing Scott notices is that Chiddy isn’t alone. He’s holding hands with someone. Not just someone – _Liz_ – and she’s smiling shyly and waving at them both. _Interesting._

“I have somebody I want to introduce you to. This is my girlfriend, Liz. Liz, these are my best friends – Scott, who you’ve already met – and Tessa.”

Tessa is the first to speak, thankfully coming up with something much nicer and more polite than Scott’s first instinct (which was to yell, “YEAH WE KNOW” at the top of his lungs). “Hello, Liz, it’s nice to finally meet you. We’ve heard so much about you from Chiddy.”

“Probably not all of it good,” Liz chuckles as Chiddy blushes, looking guilty as hell.

“Oh no, no,” Tessa quickly argues, coming to Chiddy’s defense like the loyal friend she is, “He’s always been very vocal about your work ethic.”

Scott snorts. Of course Tessa would manage to find a way to make that sound diplomatic, instead of the honest answer that Chiddy had loathed Liz and her promotion for the first couple of months. _Praising her work ethic_ is just about as far as the truth can be stretched without snapping. Frankly, it's a stroke of genius on her part.

"That’s nice to hear. I was so certain he hated me until Pyeongchang.”

“I didn’t hate you!” Chiddy loudly pronounces, earning scoffs from both Scott and Tessa that she, at least, tries to cover with a cough. “I just didn’t know you.”

Liz laughs and squeezes his arm, ginning up at him. “Aren’t you glad now that you do?”

“Absolutely.” He smiles and they share a quick kiss, before Chiddy turns back to them - his cheeks still a little pink. “I bet you guys are pretty surprised though.”

“Uh…” Scott shares a look with Tessa and they can't help it - the two of them bursting into laughter at the same time. “You do realize we knew you two were dating this whole time, right?”

“What?" Chiddy stares at them, his chin falling towards the floor. "How could you have possibly known that!?”

“Man, you are the worst liar in the world.”

“I am not!”

“Yeah,” Tessa nods apologetically, “You kind of are. I don’t even live with you and I still knew you were sneaking out all the time to see her.”

“Well what about you two?" Chiddy throws back, pointing a finger at them both, "You aren’t any better than we are!” 

At that moment the door slides open again and suddenly the backyard is teeming with people. His brothers and their families, practically every Moir relative in Ilderton and the surrounding area, a few of his buddies and their wives and kids. It’s chaotic in the best way and they all get swept up in it – Chiddy and Liz getting pulled away by a few mutual friends and Tessa immediately getting caught up in a conversation with his sisters-in-law who start gushing about how excited they are to see her. Putting whatever Chiddy was about to say on hold and completely snuffing out Scott's chances of finishing his conversation with Tessa. 

“Look who woke up from her nap. The party can get started!” Alma hands him a wide-eyed Hannah, the last remnants of sleep fading from her face as she takes in the overwhelming scene in front of her, and Scott gathers her in his arms with a smile and a kiss and heads out onto the lawn to begin the celebrations.

It's time to focus on his daughter now, everything else can wait.

It’s fun to watch how excited little kids get about everything. They all love the games he has them play and are very enthusiastic about building their own sailboats and painting their faces, and he probably takes over fifty pictures of them all playing in their costumes and reenacting the Wild Rumpus. At one point Jeff and Justin emerge dressed in full gear as a couple of the Wild Things – tossing Hannah high into the air and making her laugh and romping around the fake forest with the other children, giving them piggyback rides and allowing themselves to be tackled to the ground.

(If he has to forcibly remind himself a few times that they're his friends and not mascots come to kill him, well, that's Scott's secret.) 

He has to hide his face a few times throughout the party to swallow back the tears that inexplicably prick behind his eyes. To think that this time last year he had no idea his daughter was coming into the world. No idea just how much his life would change. Thank god Whitney decided to give her up, and thank god he’d decided to keep her. He can’t imagine his life without her now.

“Hey, Scott! Where’s the cake?” Jeff comes tromping over, headpiece tucked under his arm and struggling to walk normally in his oversized claw feet with two kids clinging to his legs – laughing as they’re taken for a ride across the grass. “Isn’t it time for Hannah to blow out the candles?”

“It’s in the kitchen,” Alma replies absentmindedly from somewhere off to his side, and Scott looks over to find her pouring over one of the family photo albums in her lap. Pointing out certain pictures to Tessa and adding laughter and commentary as she flips through each page. It’s sweet, seeing the two of them sitting together like that, and Scott feels a pang of longing in his heart again. Every time he looks at Tessa he feels the urge to grab her hand and take her somewhere private so that they can finally talk.

As much fun as he’s been having, the not-knowing is eating at the back of his mind like some sort of persistent creature determined to make him suffer. Right next to the other voice in his head that’s been screaming at him to tell her how he feels for the last ~~two hours~~ three weeks. 

He looks over at where Jeff and Justin are entertaining Hannah, wondering if he might be able to squeeze out enough time right now for a quick conversation, but then Scott recognizes exactly which photo album they’re looking at, and he groans loudly. “ _Ma_ , did you have to get that one out?”

"We’re looking at pictures from when you were this age and comparing them to Hannah." His easily dismisses his concern. "Don’t worry, you were a very cute baby.”

“It’s okay, Scott,” Charlie chimes in, “I’m sure there are only a few naked pictures in there.” He snickers and looks back at his phone, scrolling through his iTunes and syncing it up to the Bluetooth speaker. Apparently he’s decided Scott’s birthday playlist isn’t up to scratch, because seconds later the Barenaked Ladies starts playing.

(Scott's gonna kill him.)

“Are you showing Tess naked baby pictures of me?” Scott points an accusing finger at his mother, but she waves him off – clearly unphased by his reaction.

"It’s fine. She doesn’t mind.”

“I’ll um... go get the cake.” Tessa volunteers, looking uncomfortable at this sudden topic of conversation and jumping up from the wicker loveseat - heading inside before anyone can say anything else.

Scott watches her go with a groan. “That’s so embarrassing, Ma, why would you show her those?”

“I’m sure it isn’t anything she hasn’t seen before." She flips to the next page and Charlie guffaws behind her, picking up his phone again with a smile that's entirely too smug.

“Ma!”

Alma looks up at him innocently. “Are you saying she _hasn’t?_ ”

“That’s – don’t – we – _no!”_ It sounds like a lie even to him, and he cringes at the way his mother just raises a single eyebrow and purses her lips before flipping through a few more pages of the scrapbook.

Charlie snorts rather unsubtly and switches the song again, this time selecting _I'm Too Sexy for My Shirt,_ and Scott flips him the bird just as their mother quickly vetoes that choice. "Something family appropriate, please, Charles." 

"Yeah, _Charles_ ," Scott snarks, glaring at him.

"Fine, fine. Something family friendly." 

The familiar chords and piano keys of Semisonic's _Closing Time_ start playing and Alma nods approvingly while Scott gives his brother the middle finger again - just for good measure. 

_I know who I want to take me home._

_I know who I want to take me home._

_I know who I want to take me home._

_Take me home_

It's totally cliche, but the second the chorus hits Scott's whole demeanor changes. As if the simple repetition - I know who I want to take me home - unlocks the part of him that had been feeling so anxious over Tessa and her decision and what their future holds, either together or apart. The pieces fall into place as he realizes, home isn’t his apartment, or Toronto, or even Ilderton. Home is wherever Tessa is. All these weeks he’s been agonizing over whether or not she’s going to leave him, when the real decision was whether or not he would be willing to go with her. And the answer is _yes_. 

He knows who he wants to take him home, even if that home is thousands of kilometers from here. And he has to tell her. _Now_.

Ignoring the questions he gets from his mother and brother, Scott spins around on his heel and heads for the kitchen, bursting in through the back door and practically slamming it shut behind him in his haste. Nearly tripping over his own feet and falling flat on his face.

“Tess!”

She jerks up in surprise, dropping the lighter on the tile floor with a clatter that she was about to use to light the candle and letting out a tiny shriek at his sudden appearance. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I’ve got to talk to you.” He rights himself and stares at her. With the sun streaming in through the window behind her, she could almost be an angel. 

"Right now?”

“Yes. It’s important.”

“Okay.” Her eyebrows knit together and she sets the cake aside, apparently preparing herself for a serious conversation. “What is it?”

Scott walks across the kitchen with determination until he’s standing directly in front of her, sucks in a deep breath - praying that he doesn’t fuck this up - and then starts to talk.

“I love you.” Her mouth falls open as she lets out a gasp, but he soldiers on before she can stop him. “And not in the way we usually mean it when we’re saying goodbye or being casual or whatever. I’m _in_ love with you. God, Tess, I love you so fucking much. I love your laugh and the way you challenge and tease and inspire me and how wonderful you are with Hannah. The way you accepted her immediately and care for her like she’s your own daughter makes my heart practically explode. I love sharing in your happiness and holding you when you’re sad and handing you metaphorical boxing gloves when you’re angry – confident that you’re going to win whatever fight you’re getting into. I love how brilliant you are and how much you care about everything and everyone. I love your freckles and how ticklish you are and your green eyes and the way your body seems to fit so perfectly with mine. I _love_ you, Tessa Jane McCormick Virtue,” He pauses to breathe and take stock of her reaction – noting the tears in her eyes and the smile on her face. Hopefully both _good_ reactions. “And I don’t want to hold you back from your dreams so if you decide to go to Yale or Harvard or UBC or, I don’t know, the freaking moon, I’ll do long distance. Or I’ll wait for you. Or, shit, T, I’ll ask the Leafs to let me go so that I can transfer teams to whatever one is closest to you. Whatever you want, Tess. If you’ll have me, I’m yours. You want me to move to Boston and play for the Bruins? Done.”

“You can’t play for them, Scott,” Tessa chokes out a laugh, her voice thick with unspoken emotions and unshed tears, “You hate the Bruins.”

“But I love you.” He takes her hands and brings them to his mouth to kiss the back of them, rubbing over the spots with this thumbs as if to seal the kisses into place. “I love you, Virtch, and I’ll keep loving you wherever you decide to go, if you’ll let me.”

Tears break free and start streaming down her cheeks, clinging to her eyelashes and making them almost sparkle in the afternoon sunshine that’s streaming through the window above the sink, and when she reaches up to gently cup his cheek with her hand Scott has to close his eyes to stop himself from crying, too. “I’m not going to Yale or Harvard or UBC, or the moon, Scott,” She whispers, laughing breathlessly, “I wanted to tell you earlier, but I’ve decided to go to the University of Toronto. I confirmed my acceptance in a meeting with the Dean yesterday the second I got back from Vancouver. I’m staying right here.”

His heart stops and then picks back up again at ten times the speed, thundering wildly inside his chest. “You’re staying?”

“Yeah.” She smiles softly, her index finger circling around the edge of his ear and sending shivers down his spine. “This is what I want. This is home.”

“Oh thank god!” He scoops her up in a big hug, lifting her off her feet for a second as he squeezes her tight before setting her back down and tentatively asking, “Is that… the only thing you want? Because if it is I can live with that, T, I promise. If you want to just be friends tell me now and I’ll never mention it again. Your friendship means every -”

She rolls her eyes and grabs his shirt, pulling him towards her, her lips smashing against his in a heated kiss that he returns wholeheartedly – wrapping his arms around her slender ribcage and lifting her up so that she’s sitting on the edge of the kitchen counter. It’s easier to kiss her like this, and he moans when she buries her hands in his hair – just like he’d teased her about earlier – and gently tugs.

“I don’t want to just be friends, Scott,” She half-says, half-giggles once they’ve broken apart for air. Their chests heaving against each other. “Not anymore. I’ve been in love with you for years.”

“You have?”

“Yes.”

 _Can it really be true?_ "Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You’ve always worn your heart on your sleeve and chased after romance with a sort of single-minded focus." She shrugs and fiddles with the collar of his t-shirt, slipping her fingers inside to trace a triangle around his freckles. "I accepted a long time ago that if you felt the same way about me you’d have made a move. Since you didn’t, I figured my feelings were one-sided.”

He laughs and captures her hand, kissing her fingertips. “All this time I’ve been trying _not_ to fall in love with you because I thought that was what you wanted – I thought that our friendship was too important to risk. I was so afraid of fucking everything up.”

“We’ve been having sex and calling it platonic. That’s pretty fucked up of us.” Tessa teases, looping her arms around his neck and wrapping her legs around his waist, pulling him in closer.

“It was bound to happen someday. I’m surprised I managed to resist you this long, to be honest.”

“I am pretty irresistible.” She bumps her nose against his and he grins, leaning forward to kiss her again.

“Don’t I know it. The second we hooked up in Korea I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” He kisses her both of her cheeks before kissing her mouth again, “ _Wanting_ you. It’s all I’ve been able to think about. I want everything with you, Tessa. I hope it’s not too soon to tell you that. I’m in this for the long haul.”

“I want everything with you, too. There’s no getting rid of me, Moir.” He laughs at the sassy look she gives him and lets her pull him in for another kiss. One that quickly becomes two, then three, then four, before he loses count.

Somewhere it distantly occurs to him that he practically just proposed to her, which would normally make him freak out except for the fact that she basically said yes. She said _yes_. She’s staying in Toronto and she’s in love with him and holy _shit_ – it really is possible for all of his dreams to come true.

He steps in closer, grabbing her hips and tugging her towards the edge of the counter, and her skirt rides up in the process - almost to her hips. A gentleman would pull it back down, but he allows himself to stroke across the skin of her upper thighs. Not with any real intention, given where they are, but with enough pressure to make Tessa keen into his mouth and arch into him.

She tears her lips away from his and laughs at herself and the noise she just made, shaking her head at their antics. “Have I mentioned how much I love you?”

“I could stand to hear it again.” He grins and starts peppering kisses along her jawline before latching onto the spot underneath her ear that makes her whimper.

“I love you.”

Lifting his head to look at her, he catches her already smiling at him – a beautiful smile that feels like it belongs only to him and makes him feel like the sun has taken root inside his chest- and he leans forward. She meets him halfway, slanting her lips against his to match him perfectly.

 _Made for each other_.

He drops his hand to her thigh again, slipping the tips of his fingers underneath the hem. Not moving any higher, just holding her there while they engage in what has to be the hottest make-out session of his life. All of the kisses he’s had before pale in comparison to the ones he shares with her.

In fact, he'd very much like to continue kissing her forever and if -

“Scott, what are you – gah!” Alma shrieks and Scott tears himself away from Tessa with a speed that would seriously impress his coach, stumbling backwards against the fridge on the opposite wall and making its contents rattle inside while she nearly falls off the counter. Barely managing to catch herself on her toes and stay upright.

Tessa hastily tugs her skirt back down to an appropriate length, her whole face flushing crimson. “I’m so sorry, Alma, we didn’t hear you come in.”

"Yes, I can see why.” His mother curls her lips around her teeth and presses them together in an attempt not to laugh, but Scott can see the mirth behind her eyes and he groans. He’s going to have to endure so much teasing about this – probably won’t stop being made fun of for at least the next five to ten years, if not longer.

Getting caught when you’re a teenager is one thing, but when you’re thirty? Making out in the _kitchen_? It’s mortifying.

Tessa glances awkwardly at them both before excusing herself and slipping through the door behind Alma, and Scott watches her go with no small amount of envy. At least she gets to leave this conversation behind – he has to stay here and listen to a lecture.

“Sorry, Ma.” He rubs the back of his neck and subtly readjusts his jeans. Not that he’s all that worried about an erection now, though. It pretty much evaporated the second his mother said his name.

“That’s quite alright, Scotty. You’re both consenting adults. Although perhaps you might pick a better time and place for that sort of thing. Your daughter is waiting.” She tilts her head at him and he winces. 

“Right. We got carried away. It won’t happen again.”

A teasing smile tugs at her lips, and she winks. “I told you she wouldn’t mind seeing your naked baby pictures.”

“ _Ma!”_

“Oh, hush." She dismisses him with a laugh. "Is this a recent development or have you been hiding your relationship for a while?”

“It’s… complicated. But the short answer is yes, this is fairly recent.” His mother of all people does not need to know all the sordid details about how they quite literally fucked themselves into a relationship. 

“I’m glad you two have figured out your feelings. You father and I have been wondering for years if you’d ever stop dancing around each other. Kate and I used to have fun planning your wedding while we waited for the two of you to finish practice.”

“For fuck’s sake!" Scott throws his arms out in surrender. "Did everybody know we were in love except us?”

“Language!” She glares at him and he mutters an apology that he doesn't really feel. “And yes, your father and I knew you were in love with Tessa when you came home from skating practice and told us you couldn’t do ice dance anymore.”

"Really?”

“I could tell by the way you were so passionate about declaring that your friendship with Tessa was too important to risk over skating drama that your reasons ran deeper than that. And the way you stayed so committed to being in each other’s lives, even living in different towns and without the skating anymore, just proved my suspicions to be correct. I’ve just been waiting for you to come around.”

Scott sags against the counter and scoffs at himself. “Apparently I’m pretty useless, if it took over thirteen years for me to finally see what everyone else saw.”

“What matters is you both got there in the end." His mother pats his hand sympathetically and he gives her a small smile. "I’m happy for you, Scott. For you and for Tessa. You bring out the best in each other.”

“Thanks, Ma.”

"Now let's go back out there and sing. No more distractions." 

Scott retrieves the lighter from the floor and grabs the cake before following his mother back outside. Everyone has gathered either on or near the porch, waiting eagerly for him to emerge so that they can sing and Hannah can blow out the candle, but Scott finds Tessa first – sharing a private smile with her and a nod that everything is alright.

Jeff hands him Hannah and the whole group starts to sing. What it lacks in melody it makes up for in enthusiasm, and Scott dances around with Hannah to make her smile and laugh – her whole face lighting up with recognition when they sing the part that says, “Happy Birthday dear Hannah!”

When the song ends his mom holds the cake out so that Hannah can blow out the candle, but Scott hesitates. It doesn’t feel right – doesn’t feel _complete_ – without Tessa. He turns to her with a smile and gestures for her to join them. “Come on, Virtch, you need to be in on this, too.”

“Are you sure?” She hesitates, looking around at the rest of his family before back at him, and Scott nods - encouraging her to come stand by his side.

“Yeah. We’re making memories as a family, after all.” He smiles and takes her hand, lacing their fingers together, and Tessa beams back at him. There’s a muted reaction from the crowd – hushed questions and quiet exclamations and someone loudly muttering _fucking finally_ (he’s pretty sure it was Jeff) – but Scott doesn’t care. Let them think or say whatever they want. He’s never been happier.

“Come on, Hannah-banana,” Tessa reaches out to take Hannah’s hand, the three of them leaning forward together, “Like this.”

He and Tessa blow at the same time. Hannah doesn’t quite get it (she reaches for the candle instead and they have to quickly intercede before she burns herself), but together they blow it out and his family and friends all cheer.

It’s absolutely perfect.

****

Scott quietly shuts the door behind him and sets the baby monitor down on top of the dresser, stretching his arms out wide and tilting his neck to crack it – trying to alleviate his sore muscles. They’re staying in Ilderton tonight because after a fun (but exhausting) party and the extensive amount of clean-up he’d had to do, the last thing he’d wanted was to spend two hours in the car driving back to Toronto, but he can’t deny that part of him is longing for the comfort of his own luxury mattress right now.

"Is she asleep?” Tessa looks up from the book she’d found on the coffee table downstairs, some romance novel his mom had been reading and recommended to her, and Scott nods – padding barefoot across the carpet and collapsing onto the bed beside her.

“With how exhausted she is from all the excitement today, she’ll probably sleep for the next twelve hours straight.” She’d fallen asleep before he’d even put her down in Charlie’s old room, in fact – laying her down carefully in the port-a-crib his mom keeps in the hall closet so that she wouldn’t wake up and fuss over being in an unfamiliar place – still wearing her _Where the Wild Things Are_ outfit and clutching tightly to her favorite stuffed dragon and the plush Wonder Woman toy Tessa had given her.

“That’s good. She needs it.” Tessa tosses the book onto the nightstand and rolls over to switch the lamp off, casting her side of the room in dark shadows. The only light source remaining comes from the weird tones of the Batman and Robin lamp on his side of the bed. “We all do. I could sleep for days.”

He could turn his light off, wish her goodnight, and go to sleep. His body certainly wants that. But his mind and heart would rather look at her – bask in her nearness and take advantage of the opportunity to be alone with her for the first time in far too long. Secure in the knowledge that she’s here to stay.

Scott rolls onto his side to face her and grabs her around the waist, pulling her across the mattress so that she’s tucked into the front of his body, right up against his chest, and Tessa giggles – clutching onto his forearm and smiling up at him.

“What are you doing?”

“Can’t a guy cuddle his girlfriend?” He gives her a quick peck on the cheek while tickling her stomach, and she laughs and bats his hand away.

“Is that what I am? Your girlfriend?” She wraps her lips around the word as she tests it out, and it sounds just as weird coming from her as it did coming from him. Not because he doesn't like it, but because it just doesn’t go far enough.

“It seems kind of trivial, doesn’t it?” He taps his chin, pondering alternative terms they could use, “Partner? Committed friend with benefits? Lover? Bandmate?”

“Bandmate?” She snorts. “How are we like bandmates?”

“I don’t know… We work well together? Do you know any instruments?” He asks, trying and failing to picture the two of them on stage singing and playing guitar. She would undoubtedly look amazing, but after two seconds he’d probably start acting goofy, and there is the small issue that neither one of them can sing particularly well. They’d probably end up just hopping around onstage, making up for what they lack in talent with their enthusiasm.

“Unless you count the piano lessons I took until I was seven, then no.”

“Damn.” He snaps his fingers, pretending to be disappointed. “Guess we’ll have to be something else. Teammates?”

“You already have twenty-one teammates,” She points out helpfully, “Unless you’re trying to tell me that you’re in love with all of them, too. Because I’ve always wondered about you and Marleau...” He must pull a ridiculously horrified face because Tessa bursts out laughing, her whole body shaking as she giggles uncontrollably at his reaction. “Okay,” She snorts, “Okay, not teammates then.”

“Definitely not.” He shudders. He loves Marleau like a good friend and mentor, but the two of them – ugh, no. Just no. “It’ll just have to be girlfriend for now.” He tacks on the last two words to gauge her reaction, and Tessa stops giggling to smile tentatively up at him, gazing at him with those sparkling green eyes of hers and lifting her hand to stroke his jaw.

“For now.”

He kisses her then, capturing her bottom lip between his teeth before gently seeking entrance with his tongue, and Tessa eagerly opens up to him – arching into the kiss and giving as good as she gets. Scott places his hand on her hip and swiftly maneuvers them so that she’s on top - her legs straddling either side of his waist – giving them both more room to work with.

“Where did you find this?” He tugs at the hem of her flannel nightgown, which he suspects isn’t a nightgown at all and is really one of his old shirts. It looks ridiculously good on her, especially without any pants (he’s a simple man), and he can’t wait to see her wearing more of his things now that they’re officially together.

Tessa stops her assault on his neck to prop herself up and answer his question, giving him the perfect view straight down the wide open collar. “I needed something to sleep in and I found it in the closet. Your mom offered one of her nightgowns, but that seemed… too weird.”

“Blech. No.” He scrunches up his face and sticks out his tongue. That’s an image he can happily live his whole life without. “Thank you for turning that offer down.” He can’t imagine sharing a bed with Tessa while she’s wearing a mint green nightgown from the early seventies, let alone kissing her. It all feels a little too Freudian and he’s very grateful she hadn’t accepted the offer.

“Yeah, I didn’t want to be rude, but… no.” She scrunches up her face to match his, and he laughs, lifting his head up for another kiss.

He fiddles with the buttons that he can reach, popping a few free while trying to remember ever owning this pattern of red, blue, and black before, and then it dawns on him. “Wait, Virtch –“ He pushes her just hard enough to get her to sit up again, and he sits up with her. “This isn’t mine. This shirt was Charlie’s.”

“What?” She tugs the material away from her body to get a better look at it, and Scott nods with grim certainty. He can remember his brother wearing this shirt multiple times – and the fact that Charlie used to call it his “gonna get lucky” shirt.

“This is definitely Charlie’s old shirt.”

“Gah!” She grabs the bottom of it and tugs it over her head, sending a few buttons flying in the process – balling it up and tossing it across the room with a comical look of disgust. “No offense to Charlie, but I am not sleeping in his old clothes.”

He agrees, but, “Uh… Tess…” Scott blinks at her suddenly naked breasts, trying to remember how to breathe like a human being and wondering if it’s still impolite to stare at her or if that’s allowed now. She’d been naked under that shirt. _Completely_ naked. And now she’s completely naked and straddling his waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Which he kind of loves (because intimacy like this between them is still wonderful and new), but also hates because he’s not sure if he’s allowed to touch or not. They’ve gone about this whole relationship backwards, so he has no idea where any of the lines are anymore.

“What?” She catches his line of sight and blushes, but doesn’t move to cover herself, and he falls even more in love with her. “Well what did you expect me to be wearing? I didn’t exactly plan on staying in Ilderton tonight.”

“I’m not complaining.” He rests one hand on her naked waist and reaches for her with the other, clasping the back of her neck and leaning forward to kiss her – wet and messy, leaving no room for misunderstanding where his thoughts are headed.

“We are not having sex in your parent’s house,” Tessa gasps, wrenching her mouth free and trying not to react when he merely moves his mouth down lower – determined not to be thrown off course by pesky things like the human need for air or the reminder that they’re not in Toronto.

That is, until it hits him what she said, or rather, what she said no to, and he releases her nipple to frown at her. “But you’re naked!”

“That’s…” She tries to shift backwards on his legs, but ends up accidentally grinding against him – an action that’s immediately followed by her body mindlessly seeking more friction, and he slides his hand down from her waist to grip her hip and help direct her movement. “Not my fault.”

“You’re the one who took your clothes off,” He points out, tenderly kissing the freckles on her sternum as he makes his way over to her other breast to give it the same treatment he’d been giving the first, “Not me.”

She buries her hand in his hair and holds him in place, tossing her head back and encouraging him to continue his ministrations even while shaking her head. “Did you really want me to keep wearing your brother’s shirt?”

“No,” He laughs, nipping at the underside of her breast and smirking wickedly when she whimpers, “But you can’t expect me to sleep the whole night next to you while you’re naked and not do anything about it.” He slips his hand between her legs very briefly, just quick enough to feel how wet she is and tease her – laughing when she moans and whimpers in protest when he takes his hand away and sets it safely back on her hip.

“Are you saying – ungh –“ She pauses as she shifts, sliding forward so that his still fabric-covered cock is wedged between her legs, right where she wants him, “That you can’t control yourself?”

“Tess,” He drags both of his hands up her body, scraping the back of his nails against her as he goes – up her thighs, across her abs, over her breasts, making her shiver and break out in goosebumps all over – before finally cupping her face in his palms, “If you asked me to, of course I could, but I have to point out that I haven’t seen you in three weeks, weeks that were very emotionally distressing for me, I might add, and that you are the love of my life and the sexiest woman I know. I could keep my hands to myself, but it would be cruel and unusual punishment, and I seem to remember that being against the law or something.”

She slowly blinks her eyes open and stops grinding, loosening her grip on his hair so that she can stroke his ears and the sides of his face. “Were they really emotionally distressing?”

Scott presses his forehead against hers, breathing in deep. “They’ve been the worst weeks of my life, Virtch.”

“Even worse than when you broke your ankle and couldn’t play hockey for a few months?”

He nods, the action making her nod, too. “A million times worse. I’d rather break my ankle every season for the rest of my career than live through these weeks again.”

“Don’t say something like that!” She breaks free of his grasp and clamors off his lap to reach out and knock three times on the wooden nightstand - the staccato sound sharp and loud in the quiet room - before Scott wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her back.

“It’s true, though.” He raises her knuckles to his mouth to softly kiss them. “Knowing I was in love with you, but not knowing how you felt – not even knowing if you were going to stay in Toronto – that was torture.” He swallows thickly before continuing, giving voice to the rest of his fears, “And then I thought maybe you were getting back together with Sheldon.”

Tessa’s eyebrows knit together and she cocks her head. It takes her a second, but she finally asks, “Simon?”

“Sure, Steven, that’s what I said.” He shrugs, the corner of his mouth crooking up when Tessa giggles. “I really thought Vancouver had stolen you from me for good.”

“Why would you think I was getting back together with Simon? Just because we had one dinner? Oh, Scott.” She brushes the hair away from his forehead even as she looks at him like he’s being a complete idiot, and he sits up a little straighter – feeling the need to defend himself.

“Well what was I supposed to think? You weren’t telling me anything!”

She drops her hands back into her lap and sits back a little, then reaches for the sheet to wrap it around herself before quietly saying, “I didn’t think you wanted to hear it.”

“What?” His hands grip the sheet where it pools around her hips, wishing he could tug the fabric away and remove all the barriers between them, but understanding why she wants to be covered for this conversation. “This was the biggest decision of your life, why wouldn’t I want to hear every party of it?”

“To be honest at the café that morning before I left I kind of thought you knew that I was in love with you and were trying to let me down easy.” She picks at some invisible fluff at the seam on his shoulder before smoothing out the fabric with her hand, and Scott gapes at her – his mouth opening and closing in disbelief.

“I’m sorry, huh?”

“You were saying all that stuff about being honest about having feelings for someone even if the secret might change things or not turn out the way you want and I thought that meant you knew I was in love with you and that I should just come right out and say it so that you could turn me down.” She does a funny sort of shrug with one shoulder and waves her hand around with the other, then scrambles to keep the sheet up before it can fall back down.

“How did –“ He shakes his head, huffing out a laugh, “Tess, I was talking about _me. I_ was the person who wanted to confess their feelings. I was hoping you’d say that honesty was the best policy so that I could tell you I loved you.”

Her eyebrows shoot up towards her hairline as her mouth forms the most adorable perfect O. “You were?”

“Yes! I actually was going to tell you the morning after your birthday. I knew I was in love with you when I woke up that morning, but I wanted to wait until after we had sex to say it so that you didn’t think it was all caught up in the physical act, and then Chiddy burst in and ruined it all.” Scott scowls and pretends to be giving their friend the side-eye, and Tessa laughs.

“He does seem to have an unfortunate sense of timing, that’s for sure.”

“After you left I told him everything and he asked if I was considering what was best for your future and that’s when things got all mixed up. I kept my mouth shut because I was trying not to interfere with your decision about where to go to law school.”

“Scott,” Tessa rolls her eyes, her voice full of exasperation, “I wanted you to interfere. When I asked what was keeping me in Toronto I was trying to give you a hint – I wanted you to say that _you_ were keeping me here. You and Hannah.”

“Oh. Yeah… I didn’t catch that.” It’s his turn to be surprised, and he goes quiet for a full second as his brain rearranges how it categorized that brunch in his head. Moving it from _argument_ to _horrible, catastrophic miscommunication._

“I know.” She winds her hand in his hair again, twirling the strands at the base of his neck around her fingers. “I was so mad at myself for that. It came out all wrong. The whole time I was gone I thought you were totally offended by what I said and trying to hide it.”

“Offended? Not as much as super terrified. Every time you called or texted I was worried you might tell me you’d found what you were looking for and it was in another country. Away from me.”

Tessa hums and leans forward to kiss his jaw, letting the sheet slip loose a little and not bothering to fix it. “There were so many things that I loved about each school, and each place was wonderful in its own way. Boston and Vancouver, especially. I wanted to tell you about all of that, but I thought you were angry and didn’t want to hear it. And I didn’t know how to tell you that what I really wanted was to stay in Toronto with you.” She scooches forward in his lap again and kisses the corner of his mouth. “I thought I was being pretty obvious when I tried to initiate the phone sex, but then you turned me down, so I took that as confirmation of how I suspected you were feeling.”

“I didn’t want to turn you down, believe me,” He rushes to reassure her, stroking her arm up and down and marveling anew at how soft her skin is, “But I also didn’t want to have any kind of sex with you again until we’d talked about our feelings first.”

“So you meant it when you said it all counted? None of it was just… casual?”

“I fooled myself into thinking it was, but no. You and I could never do casual, Virtch, I don’t think either of us is built for it. Not with each other.”

“Oh thank heavens.” She laughs and the sheet slips even lower and Scott hesitates for a half a second before giving in and tracing the tips of his fingers along the top of it – smirking when Tessa gasps and doesn’t stop him. “I was trying so hard to be cool and casual about everything because I thought that’s all you wanted, but it was killing me. I thought for sure you could see right through it.”

“Apparently I can’t see anything anymore.” He huffs and rolls his eyes, thinking of the half-dozen or so people who have already told him _I told you so_ , as well as all of his teammates who are going to give him so much shit for this when they find out (Poor Nikita). “You’re going to have to be very blunt with me, I’m afraid.”

“Can we just agree to stop dancing around each other and be open and honest instead? Straightforward, adult communication only from here on out?” She holds out her fist, pinky raised in offering, and Scott laughs and takes it – looping his pinky around hers in return so that they can make a solemn promise.

“Agreed. From now on we tell each other exactly what we’re thinking so that there can be no miscommunication or misunderstandings.”

“Yes!” She nods seriously and leans forward to kiss her hand at the same time he kisses his, sealing the pinky promise like they used to do as kids.

“And on that note,” He grins, closing the short distance between them to press his lips quickly against hers, “Tessa Virtue I would very much like to have sex with you right now.”

“That’s not what I meant!” She laughs, shaking her head at his joke-that's-actually-not-a-joke. But he hasn’t forgotten her state of undress or what they were building towards only a few minutes ago, and neither has certain parts of his body. Parts that she is still very much sitting on top of.

“Hey, I’m just being straightforward here. Starting out on the right foot.” He grabs both of her hips and slowly grinds up into her. It’s an awkward angle and he doesn’t have much leverage, but it gets the job done when she moans and rolls her hips down against him.

“I already told you we can’t,” She protests, even as he tugs the sheet away and starts kissing her breasts again, bringing one hand up to play with the one currently being neglected by his mouth, “This is your parent’s house, Scott. Your childhood bed!” The last part comes out as more of a shriek when he pinches her nipple and tugs on it, and Scott laughs darkly against her.

“That… kind of makes it hotter, to be honest.”

“We used to hang out in here when we were little. This is the first place we ever watched Princess Bride. It’s _weird_.” She’s panting now, her words labored and forced, and he knows she’s close to giving in (if she was even really protesting at all)

“So far you haven’t given me a good reason why not. All I’m hearing is that this should definitely be first on our list of places to christen our new relationship. It would be like honoring our past or something.” He gestures wildly towards the rest of the room – the old wood paneling, the pinboard on the far wall that still has a few pictures from their competition days, the hooks in the closet where some of his early hockey medals still hang – it’s like coming full circle.

“Honoring our past by fucking on your Maple Leafs bed set?” She snorts, holding up the sheets with the faded logos printed on them that were covering her only moments ago, and Scott almost swallows his tongue.

“God it sounds so hot when you say it.” Blame it on the primitive part of his brain, but he’s seriously into the idea.

“You’re ridiculous!” She laughs, but she’s still not saying no, so he nods eagerly and starts planting kisses across her shoulders. 

“Absolutely. Now do you want to have sex with me or not? Remember – be honest.”

“Of course I do, but –“

Boom. There it is. That's good enough for him. Scott leans back just enough to tug his shirt over his head and toss it off the side of the bed, grinning dopily at her when she stares back at him in surprise. “Nope. No buts. It’s happening. My parents aren’t going to know, don’t worry.”

“It’s Alma, she always knows. She knows everything.” She’s still protesting, but it’s weaker now that she can run her hands over his pecs and abs unimpeded. Tracing around his nipples and over each dip in his muscles with unfettered lust.

“Do you really think when we told her you would be staying with me tonight that she didn’t suspect we might have sex up here?” He arches his eyebrow at her and cups both of her breasts with his hands, running his thumbs over them and feeling pleased with himself when her eyelids flutter closed.

“I try not to think about what your mother does or doesn’t know about our sex life.”

“Tess, we’re both adults. I have a kid. Even if she did somehow find out, she’s not going to be shocked.”

“I suppose…” She bites her lip and Scott stops moving as he waits for her response.

“Yeah?”

“I suppose we could… if we’re quiet.”

“Speak for yourself. You’re the one who gets carried away.” He grabs her by the elbows and falls backwards onto the pillows, taking her with him so that she lands on top of his chest with an _oomph!_ – their noses nearly smashing together before she catches herself.

Scott wastes no time kissing her, taking her by surprise by pressing his lips firmly against hers and sliding his open palms down her back to squeeze her ass - laughing when she proves his point by moaning loudly and has to tear her mouth away to catch her breath.

“And what about you, Mr. Grunter?” She retorts, digging her fingers into his ribcage and making him burst out laughing as he wriggles underneath her and tries to push her hands away.

“ _Excuse me_?”

“You make just as much noise as I do. It’s all _Tess_ and _ungh_ and _fuck_ and –“

He surges forward and cuts her off with another kiss, laughing against her mouth when she squeaks in surprise before giving into it.

They get lost in the kiss for a few minutes, making out like they did in the kitchen earlier only this time wonderfully horizontal and with decidedly less clothes on – although he still really needs to lose his pajama pants. “Let’s agree to call it even.”

“Fine.” She sits up enough to shove his pants and underwear down his hips, the two of them working haphazardly together to get them far enough down his legs that he can kick them the rest of the way off. “We both need to work on our volume.”

“Only when we’re away from home,” Scott quickly clarifies, “Do you want to be on top this time? You asked if you could.”

“You remember that?”

“Of course I remember.” Like he could forget her with her hand wrapped around his dick asking if they could switch positions the next time they had sex. Every second of every time they’ve been together is burned into his memory, but that one especially. It had been an intoxicating mixture of tentative and eager that went straight to his head.

She beams at him and nods, “Yes, I want to be on top.”

“Good. I like looking at you from this angle.” He shoves his hands underneath his head and settles in, letting his eyes run all over her body and taking in the frankly magnificent sight of her nude form sitting on top of him. If he were to die right now, he’d be a happy man. “What do you want to do first?”

“I get to be in charge this time?” She perks up, looking over his body like she’s surveying where to begin, and he preens under her obvious appreciation.

“Aren’t you always?”

She scoffs and folds her arms, pushing up her breasts in a way he finds kind of marvelous, and he reaches up to lightly run his fingers across them. “I seem to remember you commanding me not to touch you last time.” She swats his hands away and he tries to pout, but it doesn’t last long once he realizes his hands landed on her bare thighs and he can touch her there instead.

“Please, like we both don’t know you could have said no if you wanted to.” He runs his thumbs all the way up the inside of her thighs until they’re right below her center, then stops and goes back the other direction – drawing out a high-pitched noise of protest that goes straight to his dick.

“So,” She widens her legs a bit and sinks down just enough to grind against his erection, apparently realizing she doesn’t need to wait for him to touch her to get what she wants, spreading her wetness all over him and making his eyes roll back in his head, “You’re saying we need safe words.”

“That depends,” He gasps, hips bucking into her, “What are you planning to do to me?”

“Tonight? Nothing out of the ordinary. But eventually…” She winks and his mouth goes dry as his mind is inundated with all sorts of ideas for things they might try in the future. “Do you have a condom?”

“Shit.” In the list of things he’d packed in the moving van he’d rented for today’s party, he hadn’t thought to bring condoms with him. Which is understandable given that he was single, things with Tess were uncertain, and it was his daughter’s first birthday, but in hindsight is really fucking unfortunate. “I don’t have anything.”

“Oh,” Her face falls and she stops grinding against him, making him press his lips together to contain the rather embarrassing whine forming there, “I don’t have anything, either.”

“There might be one in my nightstand,” He suggests hopefully, jerking his head to the side, and Tessa crawls over to it to investigate.

At first he misses the weight of her, but then he realizes he has an unfettered view of her whole body as she crawls on her hands and knees over to the night stand, and that’s pretty great, too. She really is magnificent from every angle.

How did he get so lucky?

“Aha!” She pulls out an embarrassingly full box from the back of the drawer and laughs, “Scott, these have the Batman logo on them!”

“Only on the packaging!” He cries out in defense, flushing with embarrassment. “I thought it was cool at the time.”

“Oh my god! They expired in 2005.” She snickers and takes her place on top of him again, this time sitting down on his stomach and doing a very distracting happy dance as she looks over the condom packaging.

“I was an overly optimistic teenager," He grumbles, stilling her hips with his hands - briefly entertaining the thought of her getting herself off on his abs before dismissing it as something to save for another time.

“This is amazing. I want to save these so I can look at them whenever I’m feeling sad.”

“Thanks,” He deadpans, “That’s super great, Virtch. _Real_ nice.”

“I’m not laughing at _you_.” She tries to stop giggling and fails, her face breaking out in another smile almost as soon as the first one had disappeared, and Scott pokes her knee.

“Yes, you are.”

“Okay," She concedes, "Yes I am, but I’m laughing at sixteen year old you. Not the very sexy, virile, tempting man lying underneath me right now.”

“Better.” He'd much rather hear her say stuff like that than mock him for his themed condom purchases. “But we still have the same problem we had a moment ago. No condoms.”

Tessa sighs and tosses the box aside before planting both of her hands on his chest and slowly rubbing herself on his abs - as if she's just had the same thought he did. “I guess we’ll have to go without.”

“Are you sure, T?" He covers her hands with his own, giving them a squeeze. "Are you comfortable with that?”

“When was the last time you were tested?”

“Three months ago. Totally clean bill of health and the only person I’ve been with is you.” She looks a little ashamed for asking, but he doesn’t mind. It makes sense for her to double-check and he gets tested a few times a year like clockwork, anyway. Never misses an appointment. “What about you?”

“Last month during my yearly physical.”

He nods and then glances at her abdomen, stroking her bellybutton piercing. “And what about, you know, pregnancy? Because not that I don’t want to have kids with you someday, but right now might be a little soon.”

“Wow," Tessa gasps and goes still above him, and Scott's eyes shoot up to find hers in concern.

“What?”

“You want to have kids with me?”

“Uh…" She looks surprised, but not upset, and so he holds his breath and goes for broke. "I didn’t mean for it to come out like that, but yeah. Obviously. Someday. I’d like Hannah to have a little brother or sister.”

“Oh.”

“Is that okay?”

She smiles softly, cradling his face in her hands and bending over to kiss him. “Of course that’s okay. I want that, too, someday.”

“Awesome,” He grins and she laughs, shaking her head and kissing him again - this time with a bit more heat to it - before sliding backwards in his lap to hover over his erection again. 

“I’m on the pill, so we should be fine for tonight.”

Scott grabs her hips to stop her, wanting to check-in one last time before they take such a big step. “Are you sure?”

“Yes," She laughs, growing sassy again, "Are _you?_ ”

“You had me at hello,” He quotes, nipping at her bottom lip, and Tessa giggles and reaches between their bodies – blindly finding his cock and lining him up at her entrance.

“Ready?”

“For you? Always.”

She sinks down onto him and it’s utter bliss. The heat of her, how slick she is, the feeling of her contracting around him (she does it on purpose, he can tell – especially when she laughs at the noise he makes deep inside his chest). It’s heaven and it’s Tessa and this is his future. He gets to have this, _forever_.

God, he really fucking loves her. 

“Is this the part where I tell you not to touch me?” She teases as she lifts almost completely off of him, grabbing his hands and lacing their fingers together before holding them against the pillows by his head and sinking back down again.

“Fuck, I hope not,” He groans, planting his feet on the mattress and thrusting into her from below, “I really like touching you, Tess.”

“Good,” She gasps, letting him take the lead for a second, “I like that, too. I want you to touch me.” She releases his hands and he immediately starts running them all over her body while she grinds against him – flitting from place to place like he can’t decide which part of her he wants to commit them to. Eager to touch her all over.

"That’s not exactly what I meant,” She giggles breathlessly and finds one of his hands before bringing it to her center, and Scott half-groans, half-laughs when he realizes what she wants him to do.

“Right. _Touch_ you. Got it.”

“Please.”

“I got you, Virtch, don’t worry.” Scott sits up, taking her with him, and captures her nipple with his mouth, sucking on it and laving the stiff peak with his tongue while expertly working her clit with his fingers. She’s mostly only grinding against him now, but it still feels amazing, and he can tell she’s getting close when she runs her hand through his hair and starts kissing the top of his head – her chest heaving with short, rasping breaths as her hips start bucking wildly.

There might not be much leverage for him like this, or the ability to thrust into her like he desperately wants to do right now, but watching her find her pleasure is enough for him and when he murmurs, “I love you, Tessa,” and pinches her clit and she comes, contracting hard around his cock, he’s powerless to resist following after her – his own orgasm rocking through him as she shudders and falls apart.

He collapses onto the mattress, breathless and sated, and she follows after him – landing on top of his chest in that way that he’s rapidly discovered he loves. Using just enough residual energy, he grabs the blanket and throws it over her so that she doesn’t get cold, then tucks her head under his chin and holds her close – listening to her stuttered gasps for air and feeling her heart racing in a perfect echo of his own.

"I love you, too,” She finally whispers, snuggling further into him as he softens and slips out of her, and Scott smiles so wide he thinks he might burst. Tessa reaches for one of his hands, pulling it away from drawing shapes over her spine to hold it out in front of her face and play with it – tracing her fingers around his, memorizing the lines in his hand.

It's a lot messier, having sex without a condom, and he knows they'll both need to get up and get clean before they can fall asleep for real, but it feels so nice to lay here like this while she plays with his hand that he can't bring himself to say anything. 

“I wished for this, you know," She says softly, pressing a quick kiss to his sternum. 

“Huh?” Are they talking about her being on top? Because they’ve already established that he knew it’s what she wanted.

“In Vancouver in 2010.” _Oh!_ “When we held hands around that tree and you wished for a gold medal, I wished that someday you might be in love with me, too. That we’d end up together.”

“Wow.” He chuckles to cover the way his heart constricts around her confession, dancing his fingers across her lower back to make her laugh. “That tree really _is_ magical.”

“I told you so.”

He can feel her smirking, and he can’t resist pinching her ass – laughing when she jumps and swats his chest in protest. “You just love to say that, don’t you?”

“I’ll admit there’s a certain thrill.”

“I knew it.” An idea pops into his head. One probably born from the surge of too many endorphins and his growing obsession with sleeping with her like this. It’s crazy, but today’s already been full of crazy so he might as well go for it. “Hey, T?”

“Yeah?”

“You should move in with me. Then you can tell me I told you so every day. I’m sure I’ll give you more than enough reasons.” He clamps his mouth shut tight and waits for her answer, and Tessa turns her head to look at him - propping her chin up on his chest and cocking an eyebrow as she takes in his openly hopeful expression.

“Move in with you?”

“Yeah.” He nods eagerly, pausing when her face changes from happy to coy. 

“Why am I moving into _your_ apartment? Why don’t you move into mine?” She bites the inside of her cheek, but it can't keep her playful smile from appearing, and Scott pinches her ass again. 

“Because mine has the better view, of course. Besides, can you really see me and Jordan living together?” He grimaces and Tessa laughs, nodding along. 

“Okay, you may have a point there.”

“She scares me, T," He jokes, holding onto her like he's frightened and she needs to protect him, "I don’t think I could have sex with you if I knew your sister was sleeping just across the hall.”

Tessa rolls her eyes and tucks her head underneath his chin again. “Oh but your parents being downstairs is totally fine?”

“That’s different. They love me. Jordan likes me, but she could also run me over with a truck if she thought it was in your best interest.”

She snorts and he grins, wondering if there will ever be a day when making her laugh doesn't fill him with pride. “That’s fair. But what about Chiddy? Won’t it be weird for him for me to move in?”

“I’m kicking him out," Scott states confidently, "I'll text him right now." 

“Scott you can’t!” She sits up suddenly, gasping in protest, and he laughs and reaches for her - pulling her back down. 

“Yes I can. It’s time for him to leave the nest and learn how to fly free, anyway.”

“That’s so rude," Tessa mutters disapprovingly even as she snuggles into him again, "I can’t be responsible for making Chiddy homeless.”

“I can, if it means you’ll move in with me.” 

Look, if he has to choose between living with Chiddy or living with Tessa, Tessa wins hands-down. And he knows Chiddy won't blame him for that decision. In fact, he'll probably be grateful to get away once he has to spend more than five minutes with them, considering all the _plans_ Scott has for spending time with Tess now that sex is permanently on the table.

 _Speaking of..._

“Wouldn’t that make us horribly selfish?”

“Virtch," Scott laughs, appreciating her concern, but not sharing it. "We have at _least_ ten years of sex to make up for. We’re gonna need our space. If I want to eat you out on the kitchen table, then I should be able to do that without worrying about my roommate walking in.”

“You wouldn’t –" She pauses, then hopefully adds, "Would you?”

“Does tomorrow work for you?” He jokes, moving his hands down to her ass again, and Tessa whimpers. 

“How soon can he go?”

He laughs at how quickly she changed her mind, and Tessa joins in - the two of them giggling like teenagers. “Look at it this way - maybe he’ll move in with Liz and they’ll get their happily ever after, too. See? This is all coming together now.”

“I thought we were coming together.”

“Why, Tessa Jane," He pretends to gasp and Tessa bursts into another round of giggles, "I do believe you just made an inappropriate joke. I don’t know if I can live with someone who has such a dirty mouth. What kind of example would that set for my daughter?”

“Have you looked in the mirror lately?” She shoots back, propping herself up enough to trace his lips with her index finger, and he nips at it before shrugging and teasing her in return.

“No, but I do know how much you like mirrors. Are you implying I need to put up a few more?”

“Oh, stop. That happened one time.”

“Uh huh. So you don’t ever think about that? Don’t ever dream about what it would be like to watch us having sex?”

Her eyes grow dark and he can see her jaw working as she tries not to react, and Scott smirks and leans up to kiss her. 

“Are you saying you have?" She asks once they break apart. "Harboring some sex tape fantasies, are you?”

“Well, yeah, of course." It's an easy admission to make, and they _did_ agree to be honest with each other about everything. "You look _amazing_ during sex, T. That deserves to be recorded.”

She goes quiet, thinking it over, then tentatively says, “I… might be persuaded… someday.”

“God," He laughs, kissing her forehead, "You’re the best.”

“Because I said maybe to making a sex tape with you?”

“Yep." He grins. "No other reason.”

“Of course not. This is a purely sexual relationship. Totally platonic otherwise.” She smirks and he flips them over so that he’s on top, burying his face in her neck and groaning. 

“Don’t say that. Not again. I can’t take it.”

“I’m sorry.” She laughs, rubbing his shoulders in soothing circles and cradling him in her hips. “I meant this is a relationship built on years of love and trust and friendship and the fantastic sex is just a bonus.”

Scott props himself back up to look at her, brushing the short strands of her hair out of her face with a smile. “Damn right.”

“Who would have thought Scott Moir would trade away his bachelor lifestyle for a committed relationship?”

“It’s funny, isn’t it? She must be a pretty special girl.”

“Do you think so?” 

“I do.”

Tessa beams at him and he presses his lips to hers, pouring every ounce of his love and adoration for her into the kiss. She's right, of course. This time last year nobody would have expected wild, carefree Scott Moir to set aside his footloose and fancy free life, but then Hannah happened - flipping his whole world upside-down - and in turn that lead to this. His best friend, this wonderful, goddess of a woman, telling him she loves him and the two of them (slash three of them) starting a new life together. 

It’s amazing how the unexpected can take your life and change directions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! I can't believe we're finally here. Who would have thought when I started this little thing that it would explode into something so massive? I certainly didn't! But I'm so pleased with the way it's turned out and so grateful to all of you for coming on this journey with me and being so wonderful and supportive and invested. You make it all worth it <3
> 
> XOXO,
> 
> Daisy


End file.
